Gifted
by soul-dwelling
Summary: With another winter holiday season in Death City, our heroes take on unconventional pairings to finish Christmas preparations. While Patty tries to find the best tree possible and finish her present for Tsubaki, Soul finds a surprising partner in Liz to bring back the perfect gift for Maka. Meanwhile, Kid assigns Black Star to a mission to save Christmas. Includes cracked humor.
1. Chapter 1

SUMMARY: What do you get when you combine monstrous vegetation, not one but two undead armies, and a bit of smut? No, it's not an Ursula K. LeGuin novel—it's a _Soul Eater_ Christmas tale!

With another winter holiday season in Death City, the Spartoi 7 take on unconventional pairings to finish Christmas Eve preparations. While Patty tries to find the best Christmas tree possible and put the finishing touches on a gift for Tsubaki, Soul finds a surprising partner in Liz in order to fulfill Maka's Christmas wish. Meanwhile, Kid assigns Black Star an important mission, one that if he and his new holiday partner fail to accomplish could make this the world's last Christmas.

Rated T for language, potentially gory fight scenes, sexual subtext, and a small portion in which a character writes and reads smut fanfic. (How meta can you get!)

My disclaimer is that his story is cracked: it will not appeal to all readers. It has headcanon-filled exposition. There are bits of sentiment included: some SoMa, some depth to Liz and Patty's back story, and some emotional beats for Black Star, Tsubaki, and Kid. I even managed to include a few Death Scythes and one character often mentioned in the manga and the anime but never seen in canon. However, the humor to this piece may not be appealing to all: by the time you read the fight scene in Chapter 2, based on the opponent facing Maka and the rest, you will know whether you want to keep reading.

Thanks for checking it out—you may leave remarks here or at my Tumblr (soul-dwelling).

o-o-o

CHAPTER 1

"What are you getting me?"

"A clue."

"No, really."

"It's about the only thing to fit in your stocking that would actually help you at all."

Agent Knight's eyebrows lifted. "That's just mean," he drawled.

"Accurate, though," Agent Carter said, her eyes focused forward on their opponents. She whispered to her meister, "Christmas Eve drills: damn, that woman is a hardass."

"You say something, Carter?"

Upon hearing her commander's call, despite being 20 feet away from them, Carter stiffened. "No, Commander, Sir!"

The commander eyed Knight and Carter. "Take this exercise seriously, soldiers," she began. "You are in the DWMA Charon Division to handle the missions not usually assigned to Academy graduates."

"Then why are we stuck prepping before what is a mall run, literally?"

The commander turned to the muscular man standing behind him, his weapon at his side, her arms behind her back. "Because with increased cases of madness around the world, I have the unenviable task of turning around C-level DWMA graduates"-she glanced at a frowning Carter and a smiling Knight-"and elite soldiers with terrible personal skills"-she returned her look to the man and his weapon- "for a range of missions including black ops and PR marketing, since the DWMA is not exactly the most warm and cuddly operation out there, especially when some jackass Death Scythe and his mad scientist buddy let the Kishin out."

She paused. "Now," she added, "you two ready? Or should I put a Santa suit on you now, send you to the mall, and call off this exercise?"

The muscular man sneered. "No, sir. A little bit of fighting over cosplaying is preferable."

The commander studied him from head to toe, then marched away, keeping herself equidistant to both meister-weapon teams. She arrived at a point in the dirt, where she dug her heel and began to create a nearly perfect circle around the two teams.

"You read the files, right?" Carter whispered back to her partner.

"Yeah. Hurwitz there is a monster: I heard he ripped apart a witch with just his bare hands."

"Hyperbole-it was just a very powerful salamander, not a witch."

"Like the little lizard things?"

"Amphibian, actually."

"Huh." Knight's innocent smile widened, as he placed a hand on his worried weapon's shoulder. "Relax. I did the reading on these two," pointing to Hurwitz and his partner. "That woman and Hurwitz will not be any trouble for a meister and weapon like us, right?"

Carter rolled her eyes. "We're going to die today."

"That's the spirit!" Knight said, his wide-eyed optimism filtering out anything negative his weapon had to say.

"I'll just transform already," she replied, as she lit up and left in Knight's hands a stunning golden sword. "Just make this an interesting battle at least, okay?" she said, looking at him from the blade's reflection.

His innocent smile remained. "Don't I always?"

"Soldiers!" the commander called out, as she exited the circle she had made in the sand of the Mexico City construction site. "When I give the call, you may commence." She took another 40 paces away, as she stood next to a boulder at the construction site, lest she be caught in the line of fire.

"Begin!"

Knight took off running-and was promptly punched down into the dirt by Hurwitz's partner. "Terrible footsteps," she said, lifting her heel into the air to knock down into Knight's head. The youthful soldier barely had time to roll in the dirt to dodge the attack.

"Knight!"

"Yeah, Carter!" he cried, as he ran away from both soldiers running at him.

"You forgot me!"

Knight then realized why his hand felt so light-he had again left Carter sitting on the dirt.

"Shit!" he shouted, as he dodged a punch from Hurwitz and a kick from his partner. Knight managed to cartwheel away, assuming an embarrassing gait as he dashed back to retrieve his weapon. The commander had to stifle a laugh: these freaking kids, she thought-as bad as Spirit and her when they were that young.

While still in weapon form, Carter rose by the tip of her blade, easing the recovery for Knight to take her by the hilt as he dashed past.

"Ready to resonate?"

"What do you think I've been doing while you were gallivanting around?!" Carter replied, concentrating on how to match Knight's usually frantic resonance rate.

"Come on," he said, holding the blade out as he assumed a better gait and leaned forward to swipe at both Hurwitz and his partner. "The two of us, the Shining Knight and his partner, the…" he hesitated, as he parried and thrusted at the unarmed opponents, all the while trying to think of a clever nickname for his partner.

"Less talk, more fight!" Carter returned, a flash of energy exploding from the blade's edge as it got closer to the female opponent.

"Careful," Hurwitz's partner replied. "I think you are a little hot under the collar."

Knight backed up, struggling to find a gap in her defense while still dodging Hurwitz's punches, which already had torn holes in the cement littering the construction site. "Just keeping our cool for the right moment," he said, as he signaled to Carter to implement their plan: the sheen from her blade exploded into light, her resonance channeled into illumination that temporarily blinded Hurwitz and his partner, allowing Knight to kick both to the ground.

"All finished?" he said.

Hurwitz, though his eyes closed, still managed to collide his head against Knight's chest, knocking the air out of him. "I can still track your dumb voice, kid!"

"One meister against two?" Knight tightened his grip on his weapon, as he gave a worried sigh. "Hardly seems fair."

"Who said I was a meister?"

Knight glanced at Hurwitz's partner, as he set the tip of his blade to the dirt and leaned on it. "Besides your incredible fighting skill?" Hurwitz rolled his eyes at Knight's consistent friendliness. "Your file. 'M' for meister."

A groan echoed from his sword. "Knight! You read the file upside down again?!"

Knight looked to his weapon, as her face appeared in the blade's reflection. "No. I read that Agent Os was a meister."

Hurwitz's partner was nonplussed. "My name is So, not Os."

"Ooooh," Knight said, extending the syllable. He looked back at his weapon with a smile. "Sorry, Carter! Me and my attention to detail, I guess."

"You moron!" His smile was replaced with a grimace, as he backed away from the sword, causing her to stumble again onto the dusty ground. "One task-one fucking task-and you screw it up!"

"Sorry! I'm sorry! But trust me, we can still win this!"

Knight then felt a sharp pain shoot through his back, as his chest collided with the ground, separating him again from his weapon. He lifted his chin off the dirt to turn and see Hurwitz had slid and elbowed into him.

"No. You really can't. So! Transform!"

From her weapon space, Carter could see Knight get back on his feet, as So exploded into fire-not light, as with most weapons, fire itself-that crawled across the floor, up Hurwitz's left leg-not even singing him-and into his hands. The ball of fire expanded into a cylinder, then hardened into a solid beam of light that crossed Hurwitz's back, re-forming into a flamethrower and cylinder case of an inexhaustible gasoline substance-So's very soul, liquefied with a high rate of combustion.

Carter's face dropped. "Well, shit."

Hurwitz's smile curled into a sneer. "Burn."

The flame exploded from So's nozzle, as Knight took off running-and left his weapon behind. Carter screamed, more from the feeling of heat on her weapon form and the assault onto her very soul, rather than any actual burning to her human form. Meanwhile, Knight managed to outrun the flame, having hopped over a nearby boulder and sit behind it, as the flames exploded around it. He sighed, smiling-until he saw the flames continue yards away, then snake around to head back at him.

"Oh, come on!" Knight shouted, as he hopped over one snaking flame, landed on his back, spun on it, then kicked himself back onto his feet, and darted to where his smoldering weapon sat and retrieved her.

"Nice to see you again," Carter said. "Now can we get back to fighting, or do you want to roast marshmallows on me?!"

Knight gasped. "Really?!"

"No!" His childish smile faded, as he ground, and picked up Carter by her hilt.

"I don't see what you're so sore about-it's not like even a soul flame can burn you."

"I wanted to be assigned to a nice, chilly location for the winter, but no, you had to screw up the paperwork and get us sent down Mexico way!"

"You act like it's my fault."

"It is your fault-you held the map upside down!"

"If I had kept going, though, we could have been in Chili-I heard it's cold there."

Carter sighed, then did a double take through her blade. "Knight? Your hands on fire."

Knight blinked, then glanced to see that the heat from Carter's hilt-a pain he had up to now ignored-had somehow ignited his glove. "Shit!" he cried, dropping Carter yet again as he ripped the fabric off his hand, and started stamping it with his foot. Heaving and breathing, Carter gripped his knees. "Could this get any worse?"

His answer came in the form of another kick to the back.

"Knight!" Carter cried, as she too was kicked, as she transformed midway through the air, landing on her meister's stomach.

Hurwitz approached the downed meister and weapon, aiming So's flame nozzle at the duo. "You lose."

He squeezed on the trigger.

Knight and Carter shut their eyes, anticipating their deaths.

Then they felt wet.

A stream of water had sprayed across the dusty ground, knocking Hurwitz into it, So transforming back into her human form as the two were knocked further and further across the dirt with each new spray from the fire hose. The person holding the fire hose shut it off, and dropped it to the ground.

"Pathetic," the commander said. She was a tall woman, her muscular forearms on display as she stood in her tank top and jeans. Her black boots with white straps kicked up dirt as she approached the four supine soldiers. "Hurwitz, get that madness under control, or I'll ship you back to the Academy."

"Sir, yes, sir!" the man shouted, already back on his feet.

"So, keep that grunt under control."

"Yes, sir," the taciturn weapon muttered.

"Knight, pay more attention to detail."

"Yes, sir," he talked into his chest, as he sat up from the ground.

"Carter, your resonance rate is off-see me on Monday for more lessons."

Carter was silent, as she had stood already, helping her meister off from the ground.

"Hurwitz! So!" the commander called to the more victorious meister-weapon team. "Hit the showers-you already got your assignment, so get to the coordinates after you check in with Ana."

"You mean the mall?" Hurwitz chided.

"Yes. And kids expect you to be a jolly Santa, so wipe that sneer off your puss and be friendly!"

The commander turned to the defeated meister-weapon team, her sneer replaced with a much kinder smile. "Seriously, though: good work, you two."

Knight and Carter blinked, then glanced at each other. "Uh, sir?" Knight began. "I think you meant to compliment the two pyromaniacs over there."

The commander chuckled. "Those two rest on their laurels, man. I'm more appreciative of a team that at least tries." Then her stone-cold glare returned. "Still, you two are not where you should be at this point in your careers. Leaving behind a weapon was bad enough, Knight, but stop favoring on your left. Just because you have some immense luck and evidently fire-proofed hands"-she gestured to his merely calloused palms-"will not save your butt forever. Carter, as I said, your resonance is off-see me Monday for more lessons."

Both the meister and weapon saluted their commander, then upon her turning her back to them, slumped down, knees hitting the ground.

" 'See me Monday,' she says," Carter whispered to her meister. "She acts like I'm still a student. Hell, based on her age, it's more likely I was a year ahead of her."

"Just one year?" Knight tested, earning him a punch to the arm. "See, that's why the resonance is off, you can't take a joke."

"My sense of humor is fine," Carter seethed, as she rolled her right shoulder. "It's just being confined in weapon form most of the afternoon, then having a mission on top of that." She looked askance at him, keeping the commander in her field of vision.

Knight, noticing the intensity of her look, just had to ask: "Don't you find it odd that the commander is so adamant about Christmas Eve training?"

"No. Based on what I know about her, she has a history of such intensity, being one of the youngest meisters to create a Death Scythe."

The man studied his colleague, his eyes widening. "Hold up-no wonder her last name is so familiar-she's the wife of the North American Death Scythe."

"Ex-wife."

"Yet she kept the name?"

The woman risked glancing back. "I think that is the most she kept following the divorce."

"Agents Knight and Carter!"

The man and woman leapt from the dirt, straightened their backs, rotating to face their commander, who had rounded them yet stood yards away. "Yes, Commander Albarn, sir!"

She tossed packages at them.

"Merry Christmas. Your orders and materials are contained in these boxes. Suit up and head out!"

Knight struggled to read the red ink on the brown box, while Carter saw hers easily:

"Mrs. Claus?! Commander, please, not that!"

"Are you disagreeing with an order, agent?" Commander Albarn did not need to raise her voice: her steady gaze and tight mouth communicated her frustration.

Carter steadied herself, holding the costume box under one arm. "Sir, no sir!"

Knight finally wised up on the wording. "Oh, it says 'Elf'!" He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Silly me, I thought it said 'Bif'! Couldn't figure that out for the life of me-"

A pebble knocked him down upon impact with his forehead. Commander Albarn tossed a few more in the air. "Less yakking, more packing, kiddos. Knight and Carter, head out."

"Sir, yes sir!" the duo said, Knight having already cobbled to his feet, taking after his colleague into the tent to trade their uniforms for their seasonal wear.

Kami Albarn smirked, congratulating herself on organizing a thus far smooth operation. These kinds of drills had the visual and audible shock to frighten any threats in Mexico City, while letting everyone else know that the DWMA would not let any more of the remnants of Arachnophobia to occupy the city. In the wake of the Kishin Revival, as commanded by Lord Death-really, Kami knew, as commanded by Azusa Yumi-public relations had suffered so badly that any bit of work to make the Death Weapon Meister Academy look better to the public could only help keep the people's faith in the Grim Reaper and his army. Thinking about all of this, she sighed: it was worth it, even if that meant parading elite black ops meisters and weapons as elves, reindeer, and multiple Santas and Mrs. Clauses.

Not that Kami accepted the plan blindly: other continental lieutenants would acquiesce to orders from Lord Death, Death Scythe Yumi, maybe Death Scythe Albarn, but she was too experienced and, as she would admit, too prideful to not test how far she could tailor their plans to her own goals. Upon learning from Yumi about global madness having particularly acute effects around Mexico City, she strong-armed her ex-husband into assigning her to the southern DWMA offices, on the pretense of prepping agents for glorified Santa visits to schools, malls, and community centers. With this pretense, she could personally direct those agents to find all that they could regarding three wanted souls previously affiliated with the now fallen Arachnophobia: Bradbury, Herzog, and Santa. Kami pressed a finger to her chin: that last pseudonym had to be a reference to the jolly old fart, but really, after losing their beloved witch Arachne, were the remnants of Arachnophobia so stupid that they could not imagine a less thematically obvious fake name? It'd be like naming themselves "Rudolph," "Jack Frost," or "Scrooge." If you just have to be thematically appropriate, at least stretch a bit: name yourself "Olive," or "Dickens." Call yourself "Bill Murray," "Rowdy Herrington" or "David Bowie," anything but the same old clichés.

Kami congratulated herself for what she thought were better names, as she sauntered to the tents to confirm that Knight and Carter indeed were in their outfits and ready to join the remaining agents at the mall.

"Kami." A gruff voice caught her ear.

She stopped. Odd—she should have picked up on a soul approaching if he managed to get that close behind her. Well, it was that time of year, so that narrowed down considerably the potential souls who could sneak up on her.

"Rupert." Sure enough, she realized, as she turned to see a man, less than four feet high, standing behind her. He held an envelope under his arm. His pressed grey suit looked good. "Loving the tan. Been going somewhere with a little more sunshine?"

His eyes held no humor. "I get enough sunshine enough months of the year based on where I'm stationed—which, if you were smarter on your geography and climate, you would know that."

She smirked. "Still friendly, too. Huh. Didn't think you'd leave the Big Guy alone today of all days, especially when I'm having to hunt wanted soul who's impersonating him." She paused. "So, must be serious, then?"

"Isn't it always," the short man with the gruff voice said, handing the file to her.

She made one quick swipe at the envelope with just her finger, and after a second, the top of the envelope flew off, hitting the dusty floor as it was blown towards the tent nearby. She removed the papers and photographs.

"Would be nice if you brought me new info, Rupert," Kami said, skimming the documents without looking at him. "I already know about Bradbury et al."

"But not their latest location."

Now she looked up.

"Thank the old man for that."

She smirked. "Indeed-pass along my thanks to Kristopher."

"Right-o, Kami," Rupert replied, his gruff voice clashing with the otherwise saccharine tone to his response. "Actually, I'm on my way right now to see him."

"Won't it be difficult to catch up?" She finally looked concerned. "He should be flying past Berlin by now at this hour."

Rupert rubbed the back of his neck. "We...have had a problem with the transportation."

"Reindeer ate something they shouldn't?"

Rupert paused. "How did you know that?"

She smirked again. "Your boss isn't the only one who is perceptive." She crossed her arms. "It also helps that I have a Death Scythe on my side who is one of the best all-seeing weapons out there. Yumi let it slip before she gave me her mission."

"How is Azusa?"

"Doing alright. Evidently she lost a bet to Spirit, though: not only does she have Death Chamber monitor duty now through the end of the year, but she has to do it in uniform."

"Uniform?"

"Actually," Kami said, "Spirit's bet gave me an idea for how to get our soldiers undercover throughout this area, should Bradbury's gang try anything." Rupert looked behind Kami, to see meisters and weapons emerging from the tent, dressed in all sorts of outfits to resemble holiday characters: elves, snowmen, reindeer. Rupert particularly grimaced upon seeing certain members dressed in fake white beards and red suits. "Indeed," he replied.

"I take it you are getting Kid to help out again this year?" Kami added.

"Yes." Now he smirked. "While I'm in the city, want me to pass along news to your ex?"

She stopped smirking.

"Or your daughter?"

Kami was silent for a moment. "Spirit got sent to the northwest-to follow up on whatever happened to Kid when he was stuck in that book for those months." She turned, and started marching to the tents. "Knight! Carter! You better be dressed and out!"

"Commander, this isn't an elf outfit-it isn't even a Bif outfit! I can't fit into these antlers, Commander!"

"Forget the antlers!" she could hear Carter reply. "This suit smells like rotten eggs!"

Kami quickened her pace back to the tent, yet Rupert called out, "I thought you moved back to Death City to be around her, especially at this time of year."

She stopped mid-step, and said loud enough for him to hear, "I did. It's just...been too many years to try to have a Christmas together now."

"Parental guilt," Rupert grunted, as he removed a pocket watch from his suit jacket. "Whatever. I have a schedule to keep. Be careful getting to the Avenue."

She forced a smile. "Aren't I always?"

"No." Rupert replaced his watch, then marched to his steed that he had left waiting for him. Even Kami was surprised to see the creature: someone as experienced as her should have noticed that animal earlier.

"Sir, I really find this humiliating," she heard behind her, as she heard Knight scratching at his uncomfortable Rudolph suit, and adjusting the blinking red nose. "Hey, is that a reindeer over there?"

Kami said nothing, as she and Knight watched Rupert hike himself onto that animal's saddle, kick its sides, and fly through the air, heading due north for Death City.

Kami glanced at her slack-jawed soldier. "Close your mouth, Knight-the air will dry it out at this rate."

"Y-yeah," he muttered, as he walked back to the tent to retrieve his weapon. "At least no one is riding me this evening."

"Carter might!" Kami shouted, and felt rather proud that she made the soldier blush up to his neck. With that final statement, Kami marched off the construction site, crossed the street to the bus depot, and waited for her ride to the Avenue of the Dead.

o-o-o

WRITER'S NOTES

Thanks for reading this chapter. Again, if this one is not working for you, I hope you at least check out Chapter 2—by that point, given how odd are the humor and the sentiment to that chapter, you'll know whether you want to keep reading onto Chapter 3 to find out what exactly this Rupert guy is up to. (It's a Christmas fan fic—you probably already know who his boss is.)

I finally attempt to write Kami Albarn. For simplicity, I kept the fanon name: while it is based on a mistranslation, I did not want to make some attempt to re-imagine some new name for her. And it's not like that has to be her original name or whatever name she goes by should she ever appear within a _Soul Eater_ canonical work, based on the liberal name-changing policies at the Academy. I tried to draw upon a few interpretations of the character that others have written up to this point-Z-Raid's seems very badass, KamiScytheMeister's is more playful, and you can check out both of their interpretations at their Tumblr pages-so I combined those traits with a bit of inspiration drawn from people I have known personally, men and women, parents and not parents, in characterizing Maka's mother. I imagine Kami as thinking she is always right, having a bit of arrogance because she has the success rate and skill to back up what she says most of the time—and hence when she does screw up badly, she has others humble her. I imagine that before she divorced Spirit, she was much more flexible; once she decided to divorce him, however, she became more intractable. But if she ever saw anything in a guy like Spirit, I have to imagine she either had a sense of humor or developed one from her marriage to him that persists up to this day, hence why she gets a kick out of mocking Rupert and Knight. Her interactions with some main characters in later chapters were a lot of fun to write—so, um, spoilers: yes, she'll meet up with Maka soon (it isn't really fair for a Christmas story to not have the two hang out for a bit of time).

The Avenue of the Dead is a real place, about 40 minutes by car from Mexico City. Otherwise, the details about Mexico City have a lot of artistic license here and will in the upcoming chapters. The names Bradbury and Herzog are significant allusions related to something else in Mexico—you can search online to figure out what will happen next, and just what Kami is going to encounter at the Avenue of the Dead.

Sorry for the heavy dialogue and potentially poorly written action scenes, as well as for the focus on original characters. Chapter 2 focused extensively on canon characters, and I hope you enjoy the tree hunting shenanigans therein.

There is nothing like fan fiction to let you play around with headcanon. This chapter introduces to the overall story the idea that Death Scythes assign lieutenants to specific parts of their continents. In this case, Spirit gave one of those jobs to his ex-wife because she was quite persuasive. My wider headcanon is that pretty much every one of Spirit's North American lieutenants is someone with whom he flirted extensively; then again, I also imagine that Justin's lieutenants were all musically inclined, and all of Tezca's are cosplayers—so that's an idea I'm playing wth. I have plans for introducing some other lieutenants in the North American and European divisions, but I don't want a pile of original characters sitting around with nothing to do with them. Furthermore, while elite weapons like Death Scythes can tackle multiple problems at once, part of me anticipates that a bureaucracy like the DWMA needs to thrive on numbers: as quickly as these people can travel worldwide, I imagine that there are additional missions that are handled at the local level. With so many E.A.T. meisters and weapons graduating from that Academy yet not staying on as teachers or ascending to the rank of Death Scythe, I imagine that they stay on in some capacity as soldiers. Plus a little bureaucracy can help add some problems in the plot for future stories: tensions between the Death City headquarters and local units (after all, the Death Scythes from South America and elsewhere did not come to Death City despite Lord Death's order after the Kishin Revival arc).


	2. Chapter 2

"Too green."

She lifted the entire tree, and tossed it into the pile.

"Too many needles."

Another tossed into the pile.

"Too few needles."

Another.

"Hey, this one has a birdhouse in it! Where'd you steal these, you con artist?!"

Patty Thompson aimed that tree at the lot's proprietor, throwing it like a javelin at the obvious derelict—I mean, look at his mullet, she thought: obviously a thief, or a hustler, or one of those guys who tears the tags off of mattresses.

"Ma'am," the thin and nervous salesman said, the tree barely missing him, "it is Christmas Eve—the likelihood of finding an ideal tree is always most difficult so late in the season!"

"It's not my fault that someone forgot to get a tree sooner!"

Patty's eyes turned to the quartet standing behind her. Maka Albarn had her arms crossed and eyes narrowed, Soul Eater was affecting a cool pose by holding his hands behind his head while leaning against the nearby warehouse wall, Tsubaki Nakatsukasa had her hands clasp in front of her nervously, and Patty's own sister, Liz Thompson, was more concerned filing her nails than engaging in yet another seasonal argument about proper holiday decorations. Yet hearing Patty's repeated grunts to coax someone to defend against her accusation, Liz sighed, and finally spoke up:

"It wasn't us, Patty—we tried our best to get Kid to, for once, plan the decorations far sooner than the day before Christmas."

"Amazed the guy remembered Christmas this year," Soul added. "Dude ends up waiting 'til the last minute to find and buy gifts, with all that time and money in the world, too."

"Like you're one to talk?" his meister questioned.

Tsubaki rolled her eyes.

"Not cool, Maka!" he shouted. "Decorations are up in our apartment, I finished shopping days ago, and my gifts are wrapped and under the tree." He leaned forward, getting as close to her face as possible without risking a slap to the head. "I could ask you why you are still running around gift shopping, since I noticed a distinct lack of any boxes under the tree with my name on them—poor planning on your part, slacker?"

"No," she said, crossing her arms even more. "I struggle to find something to please your oh-so-high expectations."

"What?!" Now the Death Scythe was baring his teeth, as Tsubaki stood between the two before they attempted to claw each other's eyes out.

"Knock off your bitching, you jerks," Patty started, "and let's bring the focus back to my bitching!" She stared back at the proprietor. "I expect to find quality trees at Honest Jacob's Tree-Emporium, and all I'm seeing are secondhand sickly needle bunches! Now get me the good stuff, or I start getting mean!"

The proprietor tested that threat: "You aren't being mean now?"

Liz had barely managed to wrap her arms around Patty's waist before she could pounce on the proprietor. "Sorry, really! My sister is just anxious at this time of year! We'll just be wrapping up our search and heading out soon, thanks!"

As soon as the proprietor departed—dashing as far from those damned demon weapons as possible—Liz's forced smile dissolved back to a frown. "Patty—one tree—get it, now."

Patty studied her sister's eyes, sighed, then resumed her usual giddy smile. "Okay, Big Sis! I should be able to make my selection shortly." She pressed a finger to her chin, examining the supine trees piled on top of each other. "I'll be finished in about an hour."

"Just pick one!" two voices cried. The wait was irritating the usually cool Death Scythe and his meister.

"You can't rush quality, you two!" Patty pointed at Soul and Maka. "These things must be perfect and precise!" She sprinted to the remaining trees scattered around the lot. A desperate Liz looked to Tsubaki, and her friend, understanding, followed to make sure Patty did not end up burning down another tree lot this year.

Meanwhile, Maka's mouth hung open. "So, being around Kid has rubbed off on her, huh?"

"No," Liz said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the warehouse wall. "She has been this particular about Christmas trees since she was five."

Maka studied Liz. "You mean back when you were in New York?"

"Yep." She looked askance at her friend, a crazed stare focused on Maka. "What, just because we were dirt poor, ya think we couldn't afford a tree?!"

"No!" Maka said, her face reddening. "Sorry! I just meant-"

Liz laughed. "Calm down. Of course we couldn't afford a tree! That didn't stop Patty, though. Every single December, wherever we'd walk, she'd make me stop at every single corner wherever some schmuck was selling trees. She examined each one, stick her nose and take a big whiff for the pine scent, even shoplifted some ornaments from nearby stores to decorate a few trees hoping that would entice pedestrians to buy us a tree." Liz crossed her arms, her smile rueful: "No one would help us with that one."

Maka looked back at Patty. She was sprinting around every side of each tree, eyeing them from top to bottom, examining the flexibility of the branches, how many needles fell onto the ground, all while shouting at Tsubaki to take notes for her so that they could arrange the trees from best to worst, factoring size, color, and overall health. Tsubaki, to her credit, accommodated her, furiously scribbling onto the notebook Patty tossed at her. Patty even pulled a tape measure from her jacket pocket to check whether each tree would fit through the hallways into her mansion.

"But she got spoiled," Liz continued. "At eight o'clock every Christmas Eve, she'd dragged me out of our apartment. If I didn't have my backpack ready for our night out, too bad." Maka's smile brightened. "You wanted to get good seats for the Christmas parade the next day?"

Liz glanced at Soul, with a look that asked whether she was serious. Soul gave a slight shrug.

"No. God, I wish we had a car or something to get around-subways were always so dingy."

"You could have hotwired one."

"Been there, done that, didn't like the mug shots." She eyed Soul. "Like you know anything about hotwiring anything."

"I can hotwire!" he protested, she and Maka giving him incredulous looks.

"Anyway, Patty would drag me below ground, hop the turnstile, drag me onto the subway, and we'd get off about 15 stops later."

"At which station?" Maka asked, not really sure of the New York subway system to really know but too engrossed in the conversation to not contribute something.

"It was Rockefeller, huh?" Soul interrupted. Maka glanced at him. "You mostly hung out around Gowanus, right? Had to be Rockefeller Center, based on that many subway stops."

"One point for Ev-er, Eater," Liz said, her smile being more genuine than the sneer she sometimes wore when mocking his detailed interruptions. Yet that smile led Soul to feel his heart skip a beat: what name was she about to call him?

"So that giant tree that they prop up in the middle of the city every year?" Maka asked, getting more interested in the discussion.

"Well, not exactly center," Liz said, then slapped her forehead. "Gah, now Kid's got me doing it too! Anyway, Patty would hop the ice rink, dragging me behind her, and after slipping back and forth, we'd manage to get to the other side, where she'd plop me down under the tree, just to look up at that gargantuan tree, smell its pine scent, beat each other with the stuffed animals underneath it, and shake the presents underneath that tree. She'd look at me, like she felt guilty—for the gift shaking, not the breaking and entering—and she'd tell me it didn't count, 'cause it wasn't midnight yet. Then when it was, she'd rip open the gifts…"

Liz fell off in discussion. Soul and Maka looked hesitantly at each other. Liz inhaled, then finished her story: "They'd all be empty." Liz kicked off the wall, walking a bit past the weapon and meister, her arms still crossed as Patty, yards away, tilted her head, trying to find just the right tree.

"Patty would say that Santa didn't deliver to us, she'd kiss my cheek, and she'd hug me. Eventually she'd fall asleep, and I would take the blanket out of my backpack, and wrap her in it to keep her warm all night. Security would arrive in the morning and run us off."

Soul cleared his throat. "I'm amazed they didn't run you off sooner." Maka jabbed him in the ribs.

Liz chuckled. "Hell, any security guard even showed their face around the tree, and Patty'd whipped me out, aim, and threaten to shoot. She even beaned one guy in the head with a stuffed panda animal. People around there knew not to mess with the Brooklyn Devils, you know?"

Maka's eyes soften, as she glanced from Liz, over to Patty. She smiled. "So, how much longer you think this will take?"

Liz glanced at her watch. "Give her another 5 minutes. If she doesn't hurry up, I'll rein her in."

A shriek echoed through the lot, yet the three students only heaved their shoulders, and sighed.

"Patty, stop torturing that poor con artist," Liz shouted.

The shriek repeated.

"I'm serious, Patricia!" But as Liz turned, she saw the proprietor sail past her, colliding with a tree, knocking it and others down like dominos. She saw a flash of light out of the corner of her eye, as Soul grew blades on both of his forearms, and Maka assumed a pose to fight.

"Patty?" Liz said, her typical nervousness emerging in her voice. "Please tell me that was you."

A growl echoed behind the trees.

Soul and Maka glanced at Liz. "What?!" she shouted. "That could still be her!" The meister and weapon only shook their heads, as they saw Tsubaki and Patty emerge from the other side of the lot.

"Are you okay?" Tsubaki called to them.

"The lot owner looks banged up!" Soul called back. "What do you see?"

"A big-ass tree!" Patty shouted.

"Forget the damn trees! What made that noise?!"

"Like I said-" Patty started to say, before a tree fell in front of her, revealing behind it another tree-one with fierce and fiery eyes, a mouth of rotten teeth, and a mess of roots wrapped together in the form of arms and legs.

"Well," Patty continued, "I think this image speaks for itself!"

"Humans," the tree growled. "For too long have my kind suffered at your hands-as you cut down my brethren by the thousands! I will have my rev-"

"Gah!" Patty moaned. "Really? This fucking cliché? 'Think of the trees!' Hey, Lorax-piss off! I'm still tree hunt-"

The tree's roots smacked her, sending her sailing into the pile of trees she had created, as Patty slide on her back, stopping in front of Liz's feet as her sister looked down at her, horrified. Maka tightened her fists. "Soul," she said, "fight on your own on this one."

Soul frowned. "Forget it. Weapon, meister-I got your back on this."

"Then shut up and listen when I give you an order!"

"And I'm saying I'm not leaving you to fight by yourself!" he replied. "Look, if this is about the postcard earlier-"

"I'm not fighting alone," Maka said, ignoring Liz's inquisitive glance. "Liz has Patty, you are a Death Scythe, and Black Star isn't here, so I'll wield Tsubaki. Got it?"

Soul grimaced. "Fine. Good plan. Should I take the right side, or do you want to fight over that, too?"

Maka attempted a smile despite her furrowed brow. "Be my guest. Tsubaki!"

"Right!" the weapon called, her body forming into a beam of light that flew into Maka's hands, transforming into a chain scythe.

Maka looked to the Thompsons, Patty back on her feet, now standing a few feet ahead of her. "Liz, cover us!" Maka shouted, as her and Soul dashed to either side of the monster.

"R-right," Liz stuttered. "Patty! To me!"

Upon seeing her fearful her sister looked, Liz's courage rose. "Patty!" she cried again.

Patty looked stunned at the monster, then her usual smile returned, as she sprinted to her sister-and right past her.

"Where are you going?!"

"No worries, Sis! I'm just getting the heavy artillery!"

As Soul sliced at the creature's roots, he was knocked back, landing supine at Liz's feet. He stared at her. "What, you guys bring weapons during tree hunting?!"

"No!" Liz protested. "I have no idea what she's talking about!"

Soul was about to reply, when Liz was went flying backwards. She landed hard against the warehouse wall, hanging in the air, unable to move. It had happened so fast that Soul barely registered the projectiles: the tree monster had fired its pine needles, and they had sailed through the air, pinning Liz to the wall.

"Hey!" Liz called. "This is a designer coat, you bastard! I'll make you pay for this!"

The monster sneered. "Will you?"

Maka, who up to that point had been struggling to wrap Tsubaki's chain around any root of the creature to hold it down, stopped jumping. "What do you want?"

The answer came in the form of a swipe, as Maka hit the ground, yet rolled back onto her feet, still clutching onto Tsubaki.

"My brethren have suffered too much under the hands of you pests. Now, we rise! Brothers, to me!" The tree raised its roots, now glimmering with red energy, into the air, as if holding his hands up to the heavens, begging his fellow plants to arise and fight against their oppressors.

Nothing happened.

"Brothers?" the tree said hesitantly.

"Must not have kept the trees very well watered here," Tsubaki said, concerned. "I kind of figured that out based on Patty's meticulous notes on the poor flexibility of these trees' branches and their sickly colors."

"My brethren, dead already?!" A cry echoed from the creature's mouth, more so from Soul having sliced off parts of the tree.

"Death City, bub," Soul said, holding up his bladed forearms front of his face. "Comes with the territory. Maka, now!"

Both Death Scythe and meister leapt, Maka wrapping Tsubaki's chain around the tip of the creature, between its burning eyes and its rotten mouth. Even in weapon form, Tsubaki could feel the heat emanating out of the creature's eyes.

"Maka!" Tsubaki called. "Its soul is somewhere between its eyes-I can feel its resonance!"

"Soul, now!" Maka called, ordering her partner to jab into that particular space. Soul, still in the air, landed on the platform Maka had created by tugging back on the creature, trying to take it off its balance, as Soul plunged his blade between the creature's eyes. He tugged back-and found himself stuck.

"What the hell?" he muttered.

Maka, distracted, did not sense the creature's roots reach around her shoulders, and fling her off into the pile of discarded trees, Tsubaki left hanging around the monster's neck.

"Sap-my very life-blood-will keep you in place," the creature moaned, as its roots wrapped under Soul's arms and began to squeeze. "Let's see how you bleed, pest!"

Despite feeling his ribs bruising, Soul kept his smirk. "Black, if you must know." He stabbed at the roots, slowly extricating himself. Yet he knew with this continued pressure, he would be done for if he did not chip off more root more quickly.

"Soul!" Maka cried, as she dashed back to the creature, kicking into its side as she climbed up the tree to retrieve Tsubaki, then proceeded to cut into the creature's branches. "Let him go!"

"Pest!" The creature struggled to keep up with Maka, as she bounced around its base. "What makes you think you can kill that which has lived as long as I? My rings are countless." The rotten mouth curled into a sneer, its glance returning to Soul, as he struggled to keep from passing out thanks to the intense grip around his abdomen. "Let's see how many rings this little one has, once I slice him apart!"

With that, the creature's roots reformed into a jagged edge, as it came down to bisect the young Death Scythe. Soul kept his glare focused, facing his demise with dignity, as Maka and Tsubaki could look only in shock.

"Let it snow, motherfucker!"

A spray of white foam blinded the creature, its bladed roots missing Soul and colliding with the floor near Maka's feet. Clutching the creature under its mouth was Patty, now dressed in holsters that contained two aerosol cans. She tapped against the roots holding Soul, which allowed the Death Scythe to extricate himself-and fall squarely on his ass with a groan of pain.

"Maka!" Patty cried. "Wrap Tsubaki around his neck again!"

Maka overcame the confusion of Patty's appearance, yet did as she was directed. She leapt around, swinging Tsubaki's chain until she could tug back on the creature, holding it stationary while Patty did...whatever she was about to do.

"You want a white Christmas, you bastard!" Patty said, staring into the recovering eyes of the monster. "Then suck on artificial snow!" With that, she removed both cans from her holsters, spraying them directly into the creature's mouth. The monster made gurgling noises, the substance poisoning him from the inside, as Maka felt both the pressure through Tsubaki's chain increase, and felt the monster's soul shrink in size.

Yet the monster still had fight in itself, as its roots slowly curled around Patty, not just around her waist and arms, but trapping her in a body-sized prison of vegetation. "I die, I go with one more," the creature said.

Patty struggled to punch her arms against the roots, as she tossed one canister into the creature's already foamy mouth. She let the can sit there, as she pulled back her fist, and with a herculean effort against those roots, smashed her fist forward against the aerosol canister—and an explosion of white chemical sprayed into the monster's gaping maw. The snow swept through every part of the creature from the inside out, as Maka and Soul barely dodged the mess that poured around their feet. As Tsubaki transformed back into her human form, Maka and her weapon peers heard the gurgling sound of the creature die, while from the pile of artificial snow, Patty burst from it, just a blob with eyes peeping out of the mess.

"Yahoo!" she shouted. "One dead tree monster! Please, no thanks necessary—I know my public loves me already! You can pay me with sugary snacks and burning fireplaces."

"Patty!" a tearful Liz screamed, having removed enough pine needles from her coat to extricate herself from the warehouse wall. "Little Sister! You could have been killed by that nasty creature!" She held out her arms to hug her sister—then realizing her messy state, backed off. "Um, let's clean you first, hmm?"

Patty glanced down at her appearance, then up at her sister. "Nope!" she said with a wide smile. "I'm a yeti! Give me a hug, Sis!"

Liz cringed, holding off Patty's swinging arms by pushing her hand as hard as possible against her forehead. "Not on my good clothes, Patty!"

"Ah, they're torn up now anyway! Love, Sis, love!"

As Liz began to dart through the fallen trees to avoid her grungy sister, Maka, Tsubaki, and Soul approached the tree monster, still lying motionless.

"Maka," Tsubaki asked, "can you sense its soul?"

Maka closed her eyes, and upon opening them said, "Yes. Despite the body remaining, the soul is somehow still inside."

"I'll get it!" Patty shouted, having returned and plunged her hand into the branches.

"Patty!" Maka protested. "That's not how you retrieve a—"

"Here!" Patty's hand ripped out from the branches, holding a shining green orb, dripping in sap onto her hand. "Merry Christmas, Maka!" she said, plopping the mess into her friend's hand.

"Oh, joy," Maka replied.

"Who should consume this soul?" Tsubaki asked. "It was a team effort, so I am not sure I should take it."

"Let Soul have it," Liz said, walking forward, nervously examining her coat for any pine needle holes. "He'll eat anything."

"Please. Like I want my breath smelling like pine all day."

"I heard some chicks like that," Patty said, hitting her elbow against Soul's ribs, leaving a smug of artificial snow on his jacket. "I got some mistletoe for you, cutey."

A blushing Soul knocked Patty's hand away. "Like I'm getting caught under any tonight. Not after last year."

"Oh, come on!" Patty said, pushing into his arm. "You know it was fun!"

"Which part, the part where I got some Charles Dickens wedged into my skull, or Black Star and Kid gargling mouthwash for half the night?"

"The latter, mostly." On that remark, Patty noticed Tsubaki looking askance at her, as she tapped her index fingers together. Patty, recognizing her friend's hint, winked to let Tsubaki know that she was almost done with her gift for Tsubaki.

"And on that delightful note," Maka said, bouncing the sappy orb between her hands, "let's get this soul to the Academy. And get my hands to a sink, quick."

"Hold it!" Patty said. "First I got to pay that hardware shop across the street for, ahem, letting me _borrow _their supplies without paying," as she gestured to the empty cans of artificial snow. "And then let's get our tree back home!"

The meister and other three weapons looked at each other. "You finally found one?" they asked simultaneously.

"Right here!" Patty said, lugging the dead artificial snow-covered tree monster over her shoulder.

While their peers were stunned silent, her sister was the first to speak up. "Sis? It kind of has a big ugly mouth in the middle of it, with rotten teeth, and waxy dead eyes, too. The roots are all curled and gnarled."

"That's okay, Big Sis-we'll just turn that ugly part around to face the wall and cut off the roots!"

"But it's a monstrous corpse!"

"The perfect Death City tree, then!" She turned the monster around to show off all sides. "Look, Soul and Tsubaki even gave it a more traditional Christmas tree shape-thanks, you two! Sharp as usual!" She aimed her index finger and thumb like a pistol and fired a wink at the two, leading both weapons to slap their foreheads in frustration.

"And like Maka's sticky hands," Patty said, steadying the tree over her shoulder as she marched out of the destroyed tree lot, "this guy needs to get washed over before we decorate him!"

Maka cringed, half-expecting Patty's next remark to be that they were going to decorate _her_ as well. She looked to Soul, both of them finally having calmed down from whatever they had argued about earlier, as he gave her a friendly nudge with his elbow.

"Can we just have one Christmas without some tree-related mishap taking place?"

"We'll know when we finish decorating Patty's for Kid's house, won't we?" Soul replied.

"Assuming Black Star hasn't already torn Kid apart."

Tsubaki, walking behind them, sighed. "It was either Kid being bisected, or another year in which Black Star tries to climb the tallest tree he can find."

Soul glanced back at the destroyed tree lot, as the banner for "Honest Jacob's Tree Emporium" fell to the ground, the proprietor collapsed in the middle of his facility, crying.

"This is somehow better?" he asked.

"Relax, shorty," Liz said, leaning an arm on his head. "We get home, and I'll direct payment from the DWMA account to Mr. Jacob over there."

Soul eyed the taller weapon, as he struggled to remove her elbow from digging into his scalp. "The benefits of being a personal weapon to Lord Death's son?"

"Not the only benefit I get," she said. As she marched off to join her tree-saddled sister, Soul raised an eyebrow. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

WRITER'S NOTES

As I said, by this point in this story, you will know whether you want to continue reading this fan fic: when these kids are fighting against a tree monster whose corpse will now be decorated in Kid's house, the rest of this story is pretty much going to be that absurd. I hope, however, that some parts of this chapter—Liz's story about Christmas with Patty in New York—lent some serious emotion, and that some of the questions foreshadowed—What was in that postcard Soul mentioned, and why has it upset Maka? What was Liz about to call Soul?—serves as some motivation to continue reading.

Of course artificial snow aerosol cans will kill a tree monster—the stuff smells awful.

I apologize for the pathetic allusions, in the form of Soul's "bub" line as he holds up his claws—er, blades-and Patty's "big-ass tree" remark. Oh, forgot to mention: the birdhouse in the tree is an allusion to the first _Simpsons_ Christmas special.

I do not remember whether the Rockefeller Center tree has presents and stuffed animals under it—so, I am using some creative license here, and it will persist based on some settings that I will use in later chapters.

I am blanking on which nicknames the Thompsons had when they plagued New York City—"Brooklyn Devils" sounds catchy for right now.

Thanks for getting through these pages, and I hope you enjoy future chapters that will be posted between now and Christmas 2013.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Kami laid down across both seats, her long legs stretched across the aisle, and her feet resting on that seat across the aisle. The bus driver was kind enough to not remind of her of the sign explicitly forbidding placing her feet on the seats, seeing as hardly anyone took the bus from Mexico City to San Juan Teotihuacán on Christmas Eve night. Kami was lucky to get the last bus; hell, she was amazed there was a direct route across such a long distance at any time of the year. Sure, her DWMA badge may have convinced the bus driver-and the large amount of money she paid upfront, too-but still, the convenience was appreciated.

"Late night, then?" The driver tested to see whether she could pursue a conversation with the reclining meister. It had been a half hour of driving already, so the destination was only about 15 minutes away.

"Looks to be." Kami sat up, stretching her arms. "I need to take time to scout the location, time to find the targets, time to neutralize the targets, and time to retrieve the souls."

Yes, Kami was revealing many mission details to some random bus driver who had not been vetted for such intel, but Kami also had a pretty good sense of reading people-most people, anyway-and soul perception was helpful in that regard, too. Since the Kishin Revival, she had found that most people tended to cut her some slack as a DWMA agent if she was honest enough with what was going on. As with drills she ran in public in Mexico City, the public presence of a few agents put people at ease-and distracted from agents who were undercover. Up until her cover had been blown upon her return to Death City, she had been one of those secret agents; now, it was left to people like Hurwitz to stay undercover. She smirked, wishing she could see him stuck in that Santa suit at the local mall.

"Hard work, huh?" the driver replied.

"Everyone's work is hard. How about you? This your last ride for the day?"

"Even if it wasn't, if I'm taking you to some ghost hunting expectation, hell yeah, I'm not sticking around!"

"Fair enough. And it isn't ghosts: they still have bodies to go with their souls."

"Whatever, pal. I just want to wrap up this trip, head home, make sure my husband finished dinner, and get to wrapping the remaining gifts."

"Sounds like a busy night."

"It is when you got to keep the young ones from peeking at what you're wrapping." She chuckled. "My husband is the worst of them."

Kami had walked up the aisle, leaning against the bar between the first row of seats and the stairs below. "How many kids?"

"Three boys, not including my husband."

"Just one for me."

"Son?"

"Daughter."

"She an agent like you?"

Kami blinked. "Am I that transparent?"

"Crystal."

Kami glanced out the window at the sunset. "She's still an Academy student, but already she's part of its most elite force. Actually, she just made her partner into a Death Scythe."

"Yeah, still don't know what that is."

"A Death Scythe? You never met the one for this continent?"

"Should I have?"

Kami's smile became sadistic. "If you're a woman on this continent, I'm amazed you haven't met him. Total man-whore."

The driver held up her right hand, keeping her other one on the wheel. "See that ring? Anyone tries to hit on me and doesn't take the hint, that ring hints them-between the eyes."

Kami kept watching the sunset, as she rubbed her naked fingers together. "Took me a while to get that hint."

The silence hung for a few moments, until the driver spoke again: "Your exit will be on the left. I'll let you out on the shoulder, you can cross the highway at the bridge further ahead."

"Cool." Kami held onto the ceiling bars to steady herself over the bumpy road, as she returned to her seat. "Let me grab my bag."

"Hope you packed some good weapons."

"The only ones I can trust," Kami said just soft enough for the driver to hear.

The bus pulled over near the overhead pedestrian bridge on the highway, the metal glinting orange and yellow in the setting sun. The doors swung open, the wind sweeping dirt against the bus steps. After handing the remaining generous payment to the bus driver and heading down those steps, Kami was thankful she wore thick pants and high boots or else she would have had pebbles smacking against her skin. She put on her aviator shades, and looked over her shoulder at the driver. "Thanks again. If you don't mind, would you call that number on the card I handed you, so the Academy knows you got home safely?"

"They aren't going to track me, are they?"

Kami shrugged. "Likely will."

"I'll consider it," the driver said, her voice hesitant as she slipped the business card into her shirt pocket. "You watch your ass out there, pal. And Merry Christmas."

Kami smiled. "Same to you." She did not wait for the bus to close its doors and leave before she started walking towards the pedestrian bridge steps. As she did, she sauntered past a highway sign with an arrow pointing to her destination: "The Avenue of the Dead."

o-o-o

"Okay!" Liz shouted, dropping the stack of boxes onto the floor. "Pick one, unpack, and start decorating, you two. I'll get the drinks: some peppermint hot chocolate for Tsubaki, and some eggnog for Patty."

"Thank you, Liz!"

"Woot! Make mine the alcoholic one, Sis!"

Tsubaki and Patty unstacked the six containers-amazing that Liz could balance that many-and checked the sides to find the decorations that they needed first: indoor lights to adhere around the walls, outdoor lights to string down the banister and across the bushes (Kid explicitly forbade attaching lights to the roof, after Patty broke her wrist two winters ago-and after he attempted to break Liz's to match-and after she almost split his skull in response), and knickknacks to adorn tables, desks, and walls. The remaining boxes contained items for the tree, which could be put up once Soul and Maka finally managed to drag it into the room.

"I'm surprised Kid has so many decorations."

"Been that way since we first moved in," Patty answered Tsubaki. "Before me and Big Sis brightened his life, most that would happen were a few lights strung along the fireplace, just 'cause his daddy wanted them. Then when we took up residence here, Kid got outvoted!" She held a hand over her mouth, as if sharing a secret with Tsubaki: "But I know he loves it. He spends more time and money getting more and more decorations each year than Sis and I combined! You wouldn't know it given his Grinchy-ness, but he really goes all out every year!"

"Hence why he's late every year," Liz complained as she walked to the kitchen: "the gift shopping, the decorations, the tree." Speak of the devil, she thought, as she pressed against the wall when a mess of needles and artificial snow came around the hallway corner. She cringed at the ghastly corpse of a monster that was now going to decorate Kid's living room-just as much to have to deal with another demon that they killed. The tree was being carried in the front by Soul, who managed to slam the back end of the tree around the corner.

"Watch that tree, dummies!" Patty cried, her hands already entangled in Christmas lights. "We paid good money for that glorious specimen!"

"Blame my backend," Soul muttered.

That remark earned him a poke from the tree monster's tip, as Maka, holding the trunk, thrust it at him. "Then move it along, slowpoke!" As she appeared around the corner, she resumed her usual friendliness that, especially today, had been reserved for almost everyone but her own weapon. "Patty, where should we place the tree?"

"Oh!" Patty sat up quickly, the Christmas lights in those few seconds somehow wrapped around not only her hands but now up to her arms and neck. "I've given this a lot of thought, I think the tree should go in that corner over there!" She pointed to the corner of the living room furthest from the fireplace. "Don't want another fire hazard this year! Especially not when you two need to wipe all that artificial snow off the corpse!"

Soul cringed. "Seriously? We got a tree monster soul to deposit with Lord Death"-he pointed to the glob that was seated in the bowl of wax fruit in the living room, a sight sure to please Kid whenever he and Black Star got back with food and drinks. "Plus Maka still has shopping to finish, and you expect us to clean up your mess?"

Soul struggled to ignore Maka's glare. "I know what you're getting, Soul-I just have not had time to make the trip when you keep taking the motorcycle out every single day!"

"Then walk! And why would you ride my bike? You don't have the license!"

"And you didn't for the first year you had it!" Maka then became more demurred. "Besides, I need you to drop me off."

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that-would you mind not mumbling and tell me what you need?"

She resumed her attitude. "I need you to wear a motorcycle helmet, to curtail your evident brain damage."

"Curtail nothing! And you don't wear a helmet, either, my 'I live life dangerously' meister!"

Patty approached Soul, pushing him away from his meister. "Quit whining and clean up the tree, damn you. I cleaned up enough of your messes, Soul, and I'm tired of cleaning up whatever mess you got going on with Pigtails over there."

While Patty continued railing at him-and now Maka, who did not take kindly to the nickname-Soul sauntered over to the end of lights that Patty dragged behind her, walked past Tsubaki who was still untangling more lights on the floor, approached the wall outlet, and plugged in the lights. Patty stopped chastising Soul mid-sentence, glanced down at the illuminated bulbs around her, and smiled widely. "Liz! Get in here! I'm like a lite-brite mummy!"

Soul congratulated himself on shutting up her complaints, until Liz crept around the corner, glaring at her sister. "Ssh!" Liz seethed, as she set down a tray of drinks next to the still seated Tsubaki. "Never mention the 'M' word in this house!"

"What, mucilage?"

Soul and Maka glanced at each other in confusion. "I think Liz means 'mummy,' Patty," Maka tried to offer-until the now-standing Liz shouted, "Mummy?! Where?!" and hopped into Soul's lap, sending the young man colliding with the floor. Soul stopped congratulating himself for his poorly thought strategy.

"I take it you still have nightmares about that mission in Egypt?" Tsubaki asked, helping her fellow weapons to their feet.

"Ug, second time landing on my ass today-I hope this isn't a trend," Soul said, rubbing his backside.

"Ah, but you make it look so cool," his meister offered, patting him on the back. "Now come on, we have a tree to clean. Liz, you have water buckets under the kitchen sink, right?"

"And cloths next to them," Liz answered. "Thanks for cleaning the tree, by the way."

"Sure, not like we have anything else to do," Soul grumbled, as his meister pushed him along.

Liz glanced at Tsubaki. "They seem more, well, bitter than usual?"

Tsubaki sighed. "I think Maka got bad news in the mail. I overheard Soul talking about-"

"A postcard," Liz concluded, her eyes narrowing. "Her mother again?"

"Yes. Lord Death assigned her to a last-minute mission."

"What, like days ago, right? Then why is Maka only now learning about this?!"

"Overnight delivery. A bat flew into their apartment late last night. Evidently she is training some recent DWMA graduates for their new station in Mexico. To hear Soul tell the story, it does not sound like either he or she got much sleep over her mother's words." Tsubaki finished her sentence as a whisper, as Soul and Maka re-entered the living room, and as Patty, who had followed them from the living room to the kitchen and back, was still chastising over how many needles Soul was losing with each swipe of each branch, while Maka hesitatingly backed out of the room to procure a ladder to start placing decorations.

Liz crossed her arms and grunted. "Bitch."

When it came to Maka's mother, there were a few of their friends who were particularly sore discussing her. While Maka and even Soul had a few reasons to be annoyed-not for anything that was within Kami Albarn's control, just the largely unchangeable facts that a difficult divorce and a re-assignment to undercover missions had up until now kept her away from Death City and hence her daughter-Liz had more personal reasons to be upset. Shortly after Kid's retrieval from the Book of Eibon, one of his first solo missions back on the job as assigned by his father was to investigate some murders around Chicago. Little did Kid and his weapons know, however, that his father had inadvertently assigned Kami to trace those specific murderers as they were located in northern Africa, but who had recently departed for the Midwestern United States. Kami was particularly adept at the job because, since departing Death City, she had not only developed her physical prowess but her spiritual resonance, effectively finding a way to hide her soul from being detected. When Kid encountered the anonymous masked agent—actually, Kami Albarn—around Chicago, and unable to detect a soul in her, he assumed she was a witch using Soul Protect and took after her. Kami barely escaped from Kid, but not before disabling Liz and Patty during the confrontation. When Kami's ongoing investigation then brought her from Chicago back to Death City, the misunderstanding was corrected-yet while Liz could feel happy for Maka to be reunited with her mother, she lacked similar sympathy for Kami when her assault put Patty in the infirmary for two weeks.

Tsubaki placed a hand on Liz's shoulder. "Everyone likes to have their family around for Christmas, right?" She smiled. "You have your sister, Kid has his father-"

"You and Black Star have each other."

Tsubaki backed up a bit. "I...had not considered that," she finally said. "In any case, the frustration on Maka's part is understandable"-and upon seeing Liz's expression, hastily added, "as is yours, Liz! Please try to go easy on Maka and Soul, okay? And if you could re-direct Patty just a bit so she does not cause the two any undue distress?"

At that moment, Maka had returned with a ladder from the garage, that she placed before the tree corpse and began pointing at it with strict directions to her increasingly impatient weapon. Seeing Maka at least focusing her energies on the task at hand, and assuming an attitude that was typical when contending with Soul, Liz smiled. "Yeah, yeah, fine. I'll make sure my sister doesn't goad the two into going at each other's throats." Then she glanced at the couple. "Of course, if Kid would just allow some mistletoe here, those two could just go at each other and work out some of that pent up aggression."

Tsubaki pushed Liz's shoulder, her smile returning. "That is wicked."

Before Liz could chuckle in response, the sounds of another happy couple echoed through the hallway: a door slamming, curses exchanged, and stamping feet.

"Disgusting. Horrifying. Embarrassing."

"You are such a child, Kid!"

"Says the man who insisted on sitting on the lap of every Santa Claus!"

"That's what they're there for!"

"Even the ones collecting for charity?"

"It's not my fault that the charities don't give them seats before I jump into their arms!"

"You probably gave four of those men hernias! Never have I been so embarrassed to be in your company as I was today, of all days, on Christmas Eve! You arrogant, showboating buffoon!"

Black Star finally emerged in the living room, his hands buried in his jacket pockets, plastic bags of food, drinks, and even some stocking stuffers around his arms. He glanced to see their friends looking at him, and despite how confident he made himself appear, he could not help but feel a bit ashamed to have everyone looking at him.

"Hey guys!" he shouted, forcing a smile and a volume that all but Tsubaki and perhaps Maka could read past. "The big star is here to adorn your Christmas tree! Get me some eggnog and mistletoe, 'cause I am raring for some holiday festivities!"

"Please, Black Star," Kid said, pushing past him as he deposited his brown bag of decorations onto the floor and removed his winter jacket. Despite the warm desert climate, somehow today was rather chilly for the Nevada climate.

Seeing their friends, Kid assumed a polite smile. "Greetings, everyone. It is a pleasure to have you present, and thank you for your assistance during my absence. I would have returned sooner to facilitate decorating my home"-he glanced at his blue-haired peer, who was rolling his eyes at Kid's perfect and precise speech-"but I was delayed by circumstances that, I'm sorry to say, I should have anticipated." Upon seeing Black Star stick his pinky into his ear on the pretense to clean out wax, Kid concluded, "Difficulties of the loudmouth ninja sort."

That comment re-ignited Black Star's aggression, as he and Kid were literally forehead-to-forehead in another shouting match.

Tsubaki clenched her teeth, and looked to both of her sides at Liz and a still illuminated mummified Patty. She finally bowed her head, a volley of "I'm so sorry!" and "Please!" escaping her mouth. Patty bounced over to her friend, struggled to untangle a hand from the lights, and patted her on the head. "Aw, relax, Tsu. That's just our Kiddo and Black Star, yakking like an old married couple.

"We are not like a married couple!" the two young men shouted, before glancing at each other. After clearing his throat, Kid added, "Besides, if anyone is like an old married couple, I would look to Soul and Maka."

Soul's ear twitched, as he glanced over his shoulder. "What was that?"

"Soul! Hold the ladder securely!"

"I am, you nerd!"

"Jerk!"

"Dead-Head!"

"Death Child, Soul!" she again corrected his frequently purposeful mis-used terminology for Death City residents.

"You're the one putting a Skull onto the tree." Sure enough, Maka had taken from the box of decorations not the traditional star for the Christmas tree, but a topper shaped like Lord Death's mask. "Who does that?!"

"It's already a dead tree, Soul! A tree monster, at that!"

"Is that why it has that disgusting asymmetry?" Kid muttered. For that, he earned two whaps to the head from Patty. Kid was not sure what impressed him more: the symmetry, the literal impressions now on his head, or that Patty had done so while wrapped from neck to foot in Christmas lights that seemed to be ever increasing in length from the wall outlet to the living room's entrance and more and more around her body.

"Soul and Tsubaki did a great job trimming that tree, and any asymmetry was where this monster's sharp-toothed-evil-mouth-of-evilness is located, if you want to know!" She crossed her arms-as well as she could, tangled as she was-before turning her back on her meister.

Then everyone in the room heard something fall onto the floor, and roll out from behind the tree. At first they thought it was an ornament, yet it was too waxy. It stopped in front of Kid's feet, and blinked—actually blinked. Kid eyed the eye, which had dislodged itself from the socket of the still dead tree monster. Kid struggled not to squirm, while Liz cowered behind Tsubaki.

Kid turned away from the eye, looked again at Patty, then back at the tree. "Oh. _Abies insanus _—more commonly known as the mad fir tree. We have not had those infecting the North American continent since the 1957 New York white spruce incident."

"Oh yeah!" Patty said, eyes bright as she faced her meister again. "That one was neat! A true Manhattan tradition!"

Kid raised an eyebrow. "Patty, it took almost a year to clean the needles out of the Statue of Liberty."

"Like I said, a tradition! Why do you think I fill up your pillowcase every Christmas with pine cones?"

His eye twitched. "I still have nightmares. Please, abstain from entering my bedroom."

"Nope!" Patty shouted. "Not when we needed to get your credit card to pay for all that damage we did to the neighborhood tree lot."

Kid barely reacted. He simply turned to Liz, now more composed, who shrugged. "Comes with the job description: tree monster plus Academy students equals collateral damage. Your dad should be able to foot the bill."

"Please tell me arson was not involved."

"This time it was artificial snow," Liz answered, offering him a cup of hot chocolate.

"Indeed," he said, sipping. "Hmm, excellent flavor."

"I try," Liz said with affected sweetness. Then she glared at him. "You're late."

He returned the cup to her hand, now cross with her. "And will be late again at this rate. I am stopping only to deposit additional decorations. Please add them to the mansion as you see fit."

As Kid began to exit the room, he felt an arm grip his. "Hold up, Kid," Maka said, tugging him back. "I have a soul for you to deposit with your dad. Will you be heading back to the Academy any time soon?"

"Actually, that is my next stop. Where is it?"

Maka then cringed. "In the bowl of wax fruit."

Kid looked around her, spying the sappy green orb that had left a putrid splatter on the previously well arranged set piece. Everyone else in the room tensed a bit, anticipating how Kid would react to the mess.

"Hmm," he muttered. "Well, I had best get a plastic baggie for it. Patty, see to it that the fruit is cleaned, and again, please handle decorations as you see fit." He continued out of the room and into the kitchen.

The six stunned students looked at each other.

" 'Handle decorations as you see fit'?" Tsubaki asked. "Patty, did he just give you permission to decorate, with the potential of there being no symmetry?"

"I think so," Patty said, the Christmas lights now no longer wrapped around her entire body but, inexplicably, held in her hands in a perfectly wrapped string. "Huh," she said studying the previously tangled lights now expertly ordered in her hands, as she looked where Kid had just stood. "That's...unusual."

"It's not that surprising," Liz muttered, still bitter over Maka's mother problems and Kid's late arrival. "Every Christmas Eve, Kid is out the entire night to do last minute gift shopping, and since he forbids decorating _our_ house until the day before Christmas, we get stuck with all the work."

Patty raised her eyebrows. "But Sis, Kid always has this kind of busy schedule every year, right?"

Liz glared. "Maybe if his dad wasn't having him do mission after mission every single day leading up to the 25th, then Kid wouldn't be rushing to finish shopping, and maybe he would put in time decorating his own house rather than, out of whatever symmetrical problem he has at any given moment, simply tossing the job to us because he is just that desperate." She paused. "After what happened to him in the Book, I would think his dad would have a bit more sympathy." She then added, "I wish some parents had that kind of sympathy."

If Maka heard the last part, she did not make it apparent, as she and her partner were more focused on how angry Liz sounded about her meister. In reaction to her own sister, Patty rolled her eyes but kept silent, really not wanting to start another Book of Eibon argument again. Soul and Maka glanced at Tsubaki, gesturing for her to try to change the subject before Kid got back.

"Patty! I see that there are only a few ornaments for the tree," Tsubaki began, "but from hearing you talk, I thought there would be so many more boxes."

Patty's eyes brighten. "Oh, there are! We just have to cycle through them all every year!"

"How many ornaments are there?" Maka asked.

"Twenty boxes."

"Seriously?" Soul was incredulous. "What, like one box for each tree you could put up here?"

"I tried, believe me!" Patty replied. "I even suggested eight trees to put around the house, but Kid is insistent on there being only one tree in the entire house! He says it keeps us all together in one room. I think he does that for family togetherness, or to keep an eye on all of us-really, though, that's pretty much the same thing. Oh, and it's the same reason about the stuffed animals."

"Stuffed animals?"

"Oh, thanks for the reminder, Soul! I'll be right back."

The Death Scythe looked confused as Patty dashed out of the living room and up the stairs to her room. He looked to Liz for an explanation.

"We don't put many ornaments on the tree, but we make up for it beneath the tree." She removed from one box a puce fabric. "The tree floor cozy, absorbent for any spilled water, yet ugly as all get out." She rolled it into a ball, tossed it under the tree, where it miraculously unfolded itself exactly around the tree's stand. "Kid couldn't be convinced to use any other fabric, so one year Patty got the brainwave to hide it-"

"With stuffed animals!" Patty shouted, whapping her sister with a garbage bag and sending Liz falling to the floor. "Oh. Sorry, Sis!"

Kid chose that moment to re-enter the room, stepping over Liz who was sprawled across the entryway. "Please stop lying down on the job, Liz."

"So every year, I drag all my stuffed animals out of my room—" Patty said.

"And my room," Liz interrupted, as she lifted herself up.

"And the attic," Kid added. Upon getting a look from Liz, he coughed, then added, blushing, "Um, and my room."

"Kid has dolls in his room?!" Black Star shouted, gleefully.

"And I stuff them all under the tree!" Patty deposited onto the floor the stuffed animals out of her clean garbage bag, searching to find just the right on. "Ah ha!" She reached among the many creatures, tossing a few under the tree and finally removing a zebra with perfectly symmetrical white and black stripes wrapping around its circumference. "This one's Kid's!"

The young reaper's face reddened more, as he glanced to his peers. "It only sits on my shelf, I swear! A baby's toy, really!"

"He calls it Bob," Liz said with a smirk. Kid's growl of a response was accompanied by boisterous laughter from Black Star and Soul, each doubled over in glee. Maka tried her best to stifle her own giggles.

"Bob is adorable, Kid," Tsubaki said, taking the zebra from Patty to place it under the tree. "It suits you."

Kid's blush only worsened, as he struggled to thank her. Recognizing his discomfort, Tsubaki again changed the subject: "I do not suppose you have more outdoor lights than just these to put outside, Kid? Or perhaps one of those inflatable snowmen or robot Santas for the front lawn?"

"Have you seen the gaudy decorations that adorn some parts of this world?" Kid sneered. "Disgusting-the spectacles that people will make out of their houses are obscene, but much worse are the lights: just one missing light bulb, and an entire string is destroyed! No, better to have a simple plan, just one string of lights outside along the banisters and bushes, then to go forward with an ambitious but flawed plan."

"You don't want to try, though?" Soul asked, offering a friendly smile. "Even perfection can't be that hard for a god to attain, right?"

"I would know!" Black Star exclaimed, wrapping an arm around either young man. "That's why our apartment is awesome every year! Tsubaki and I dig out the box and go to town on our place!"

Kid removed Black Star's hand from his shoulder. "You do not even have a proper Christmas tree in your apartment."

Black Star glowered. "Well, my apartment's too small to store a ton of decorations every year! Not everyone gets to live up the high life in a mansion! And I don't need a thousand strings of lights or 20 boxes of ornaments. Hell, who needs a star on the tree when you got me?!"

"You don't even have a tree in your apartment, Star," Soul replied.

"Because my apartment is too small! Can't you listen, Soul?!"

"Boys!"

The trio looked to see Tsubaki, holding out stockings. "Why don't you help with the finishing touches? These stockings need to be hung precisely, right, Kid?"

He smiled. "Indeed. Come along, Soul and Black Star-even you two can position stockings in a straight row across the fireplace."

Kid held onto his father's, while Soul, sneering, took those of Liz and Patty. Black Star studied the one he was holding-it was Kid's-and a sadistic smirk formed across his mouth. "Should I unravel just one little thread to make imperfect what was once a perfect and precise stocking, or should I wreck it all at once by just tossing it into the fireplace?"

He received a punch to the back of the head. "If you do any such thing, then I will let Maka hang you from the top of the tree." Upon concluding her threat, Tsubaki crossed her arms.

"Jeez, Tsubaki!" Black Star must have touched a nerve to earn that kind of a punishment from his own weapon. "Sorry. I promise, I won't harm Kid's stocking in any way."

Tsubaki sighed, and tried to smile. "Just...just try to give Kid a decent Christmas this year." She looked behind her meister to see Kid shouting something at Soul regarding his failure to properly align the stockings, especially when it came to keeping them in order both alphabetically and by length. "After his imprisonment in the Book, and all the tension when he returned, it is nice to see you and Kid getting along, and Liz and Maka getting along. So please, be kind."

He rubbed her head. "Sure thing." He then marched to the fireplace. "Hey, Kid, where should I place your stocking?"

At that moment, the clock struck seven, its chimes echoing throughout the living room. Crap, he was late, Kid thought. Sweating, he snatched the stocking from Black Star, quickly attaching it to the fireplace-not bothering to align it with the ones he and Soul already attached-and stormed past the loud ninja. As he walked, he grabbed the tree monster soul-without the plastic baggy, the sap seeping onto his hands and onto the floor-as he approached the living room exit. "I am behind schedule," he began, hurriedly. "Liz, Patty, continue the decorations, and please be accommodating to our guests. I should be back by morning. Maka, I'll deposit the soul with Father. Tsubaki, please do not let Black Star near my stocking or Bob." With that, he entered the hallway, removed his jacket from its hook, opened only the right door, and departed.

The six remaining students stared in disbelief.

"Um, where do I start with how wrong that all just was?" Soul asked.

"The mess Kid left on the floor right now seems like a good one," Liz replied with a sneer, as she crossed her arms. "How joyful. We get stuck with holiday decorating and cooking-and now cleaning-while Kid does another Christmas Eve shopping run."

"But Kiddo also gets us exactly what we want every Christmas!" Patty interjected. She evidently was much calmer about Kid's absence now that the mansion was much more decorated than it had been earlier that day.

Liz let out a curt laugh. "As if it's hard to decide what you want every year: some stuffed animal and make-up."

"Make-up?" Maka asked. "But Patty, you rarely wear any."

"That's because I am just that naturally good-looking!" she shouted. "And because I go through it so quickly before New Year's!" She held up some dolls with rouge and sparkles all over them. "I want my animals to look adorable!"

"And let me guess," Soul added, "Kid makes sure to get some laundry detergent during after-Christmas sales to clean the make-up off those animals?"

"Gasp! You're psychic!"

"Don't say 'gasp,' Patty—you just do it."

"Sorry, Sis!"

While their friends spoke, Tsubaki studied her partner, who had been oddly quiet regarding Kid's abrupt exit. "You think something is wrong with him?" she whispered.

"Definitely. No way Kid would just rush out that fast, even if he wanted to get some sweet Christmas Eve sales."

Tsubaki raised an eyebrow. "Those sales usually happen _after_ Christmas Day."

"I know-Kid's just that much of an overachiever." He looked at her. "Mind if I keep an eye on him? You know, in case I can get him to finish his errands more quickly?"

Tsubaki smirked. "You sure you will not actually delay him?"

"Look at who you're talking too, Tsubaki! I'm Santa's number one elf right here! Trust me, I'll bring Kid home before Christmas Eve is done!"

She patted his shoulder. "Good. Please return him soon-I'm sure Liz and Patty would appreciate it."

Black Star gave her a thumb up, and took off running. "Guys, heading out! If you need anything while I'm out, just call me!"

"Where the heck is he going?" Soul asked.

Tsubaki looked over her shoulder. "Looks like Kid wasn't the only one with last minute shopping to do." She looked at Maka. "Speaking of which…"

Maka sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." She sneered at her partner. "And it looks like I'm walking."

Soul answered with a sigh. "Fine. I'll drop you off at the mall. You can meet me at the record shop."

"But that's where I wanted to look!" Maka protested.

"Fine, I'll go where you'll never get a gift for me-the bookstore."

"I wanted to go there, too!"

"Jeez, Maka, you're not giving me many places to hang out!"

"Then sit at your precious motorcycle!"

"How about you just get a taxi then?!"

Soul and Maka each felt so angry at the other that they could feel their necks tightening under their collars. Actually, their necks weren't tightening-they realized that when they then felt nothing beneath their feet. Their eyes widening, they glanced to their side to see that Liz had lifted both of them by their collars, marched them down the hallway, and literally tossed them down the steps, Maka managing to stay on her feet as she stumbled down each step while Soul landed on his backside on one, two, then three steps.

"Just get your shopping done already and come back with some more eggnog, 'kay?!" she shouted. "Patty's about to go through it all at this rate!"

As she slammed the door shut, Maka held out a hand to her partner, as he was rubbing his sore butt. "Pattern, today?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and trying to give an apologetic smile.

"Definitely," he said with pained eyes but a pleasant smile, accepting her hand to silently say that no apology was needed.

Both started walking to where his motorcycle was parked by the side of the road leading up to Gallows Mansion.

"Still, you should get a helmet."

"Fine. You mind making that my gift?"

"But that ruins the surprise!"

"Jeez, Maka," Soul said, his chuckle betraying the annoyance in his voice.

o-o-o

WRITER'S NOTES

Ideally, I would have finished at least four other stories I have in mind, just focused on Kami—the day she left Death City, what she did when she left, how she first encountered Kid and the Thompsons, and what in my headcanon brought her back to Death City—but Christmas came before I finished outlining these stories. At least writing this story motivates me to write those other ones.

While I'm happy with how I portrayed Kid—I like showing that he can overlook imperfection when he has larger concerns on his mind—I am not a fan of how I write Maka and Soul: there are so many authors who already do great work portraying the two, and I tend to make Maka come off as unlikeable in my stories. I am finalizing the next chapters, trying to clarify why she is so antagonistic to Soul right now—and it is not just about her mother—but I'm not sure it will come off as clear, relatable motivation.

Next chapter: let's see what the DWMA is like at Christmas.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Kid's heels clicked against the deserted floor of the Death Weapon Meister Academy. Students had begun their two-week winter break yesterday, although certain key individuals-Spartoi among them-were on-call and had to keep track of their pocket mirrors for any messages received from Lord Death.

Well, not quite from Father, Kid thought, as he entered the door that opened upon a bright blue sky and a set of guillotines marking the path from the DWMA proper and through the alternate dimension leading to the Death Chamber. After all, the Death Scythe of East Asia, Azusa Yumi, was on monitor duty this month, having lost her bet to Maka's father. Despite himself, Kid smiled: at least this visit to his father had one award waiting for him, just to see the torture Spirit Albarn had inflicted upon her.

And evidently, it was an award awaiting Black Star, too. The ninja had managed for once to suppress his natural desire to shout his presence at the Academy, if only because, with so few students and teachers on campus, what was the point of advertising his arrival to an empty house? As the door shut behind Kid, Black Star, with quiet footsteps, sprinted to the entrance, pushed himself as much against the slim door opening before it shut, and dashed behind the first guillotine.

Kid paused, feeling a breeze hit him, and glanced back behind him. He must have felt the wind, he thought. He glanced above to see the clouds above him, moving through the sky. Still, it would not hurt to confirm: he closed his eyes, trying to sense any soul present. Feeling nothing, he frowned, turned back, and continued walking.

Black Star quietly exhaled. He was happy that he had managed to slow his resonance rate just enough that Kid could not sense him. He smiled widely, happy to have tricked the Grim Reaper himself: Tsubaki's lessons were helping after all!

"Kid!"

Black Star's smile disappeared, as he pressed himself against the guillotine upon hearing Lord Death's voice boom through the floor and up to the tip of his hair. Why did he sound so upset?!

"Father! I-I'm sorry to bother you!"

"You should be!"

What had gotten into him, Kid wondered, seeing that his father had reverted to his older visage.

"Who gave you the right to smuggle from my private stock?"

Kid blinked, frowned, then stamped his foot. "For the last time, I did not take through your eggnog!"

Black Star risked looking around the guillotine. Did he really just hear the Grim Reaper whining about eggnog?

"Oh!" Lord Death said, returning to his usually high-pitched voice. "Huh, my mistake. Azusa! Mark Kid off my eggnog enemy's list, please!"

"As you wish, Lord Death."

Kid struggled to keep a straight face, even before looking up to see the Death Scythe of East Asia. Yes, he thought with glee, she is still wearing it!

Azusa Yumi was dressed in a frightening neon green sweater, with a purple Christmas tree adorning it-and tiny LED lights adorning said tree-as well as a bulbous blinking Rudolph red nose on her face, and a purple elf's hat. As she walked away from the numerous monitors she had brought with her from her local office headquartered in Tokyo and towards Kid, the bells attached to her elf shoes jingled.

Kid snorted.

"Is there something amusing, young reaper?" Azusa said, her glasses reflecting the blue sky's light upon Kid-and then reflecting the red glow of her nose onto him as well.

"No, Death Scythe," Kid said, resuming his serious demeanor. "I am here to deposit this soul with you, Father, courtesy of Death Scythe Eater." He dropped the green sappy soul into his father's foam mitts. It was then that Kid recognized the asymmetrical mess, desperately wiping his offending hand clean with his handkerchief.

"Ooh! How colorful!" Lord Death replied, bouncing the ball between his hands. "And sappy! Tree monster?"

"_Abies insanus_, to be exact." Kid turned back to Azusa. "I trust you have finalized my mission parameters with Kristopher, then?"

A second snort echoed through the hallway, as all three turned to check the hallway. Black Star again squeezed behind the nearest guillotine, smacking his forehead for risking a glance at Azusa's ridiculous attire. While Kid and Lord Death glanced at each other and shrugged, Azusa sighed. That dumb kid, she thought: evidently Tsubaki's lessons were not working at all. In any case, she thought, she had best conclude the discussion before she had two children falling into hysterics.

"Now Kid, did you finish the paperwork from your previous missions?"

Kid glanced away momentarily. "Yes, although Liz did much of the work."

Azusa looked back from the hallway. "Was it only your mission files that she was signing off on? She did not go through any additional documents, did she?"

"No, no-I'm relatively sure," Kid lied. "Patty was with her-you can ask her."

While Azusa was credulous, Lord Death shouted, "Well, that's good enough for me!" He then lowered his voice. "Now Kid, you do understand your mission, right?"

"Yes, Father," Kid replied, as he accepted the file folder handed to him by the Death Scythe, as she directed him:

"You are to wait at the west balcony of the Academy. Kristopher will be there with his alternative ride."

Kid scrutinized her. "So, it is true: he really lost all of them?"

"Kristopher will be pursuing alternative transportation, at least until the two of you neutralize the threat."

He narrowed his eyes. "I would hardly call them threats. The goal is to save them, not kill them."

"Kid," Lord Death began. "We cannot risk another Kishin. You know this."

Black Star pricked up an ear. Another Kishin? Seriously? Is that what Kid is getting Liz and Patty as a last-minute Christmas gift? No, Black Star kicked himself, that's just stupid: who would he find dumb enough to gift-wrap a Kishin at this late hour?

Kid sighed. "I understand, Father." As he turned to head down the hallway, he said over his shoulder, "But believe me: with who you have assigned for this mission, I can assure you that all of them will be returned to Kristopher, alive."

Despite herself, Azusa smiled. "Good luck, Kid."

"Same to you, Rudolph!" Kid shouted, before running like mad before the all-seeing Death Scythe's glare could penetrate him.

"This is the last time I bet against Spirit on anything!"

"It could have been worst, Zu-Zu," Lord Death said. "Remember what he made you and Marie do when you were in your senior year at the Academy?"

Azusa's face reddened. "How did you know about that?!"

Lord Death began to whistle innocently, as he twiddled the thumbs on his foam hands. Meanwhile, from behind the guillotine, Black Star watched Kid depart down the hallway. So, Kid wasn't even shopping for his weapons-it was what Liz feared, that Kid would rather fulfill Daddy's request than help his own weapons! And he was going to take on a mission and tear apart some potential Kishin, outshining a god like him, the almighty assassin Black Star? That asshole! Hardly caring now whether anyone saw him, Black Star took off running to catch up with Kid-not that his visible presence mattered, Lord Death too busy cowering as Azusa proceeded to rip him a new one for his gossip. The Grim Reaper would have taken Azusa's tirade more seriously, if bells did not jingle every time Azusa stamped her feet while walking closer and closer to him.

o-o-o

She passed the last few feet before the ground would descend into the Avenue below. The height provided her with a relatively safe point where she would not be seen, even with the bright moon out, its blood-drenched smile visible on any clear night no matter where one was on this planet. She removed the binoculars from her backpack and checked the first building.

It was as she feared: eight of them, their rotting flesh dripping blood onto the dirt. Yet something was off about them: one wore glasses. Since when did a corpse have problems seeing, she asked. I mean, besides the fact that if they're dead they probably lost brain functions and hence can't-She shook her head: no time for those questions. Then again, she thought, she could spy another one wearing what had to have been Spanish colonial armor—fifteenth- or sixteenth-century, she imagined-and really, that would not fit the reports Rupert handed her. And….was that other one wearing a luchador mask?!

She smacked her forehead. Of course she would be stuck with a loony mission. She could never be assigned a typical undead army to exterminate: she was had to be stuck in a scenario more suitable to, say, Egyptian tombs. She wanted to yell at the undead beasts that they had picked the wrong pyramids to occupy.

She silenced her thoughts. Kami lowered her binoculars and replaced them into her backpack. She checked for her weapons: a rifle with a scope (she was happy that she remembered to remove the ammo from it first), some kunai, and a butterfly knife. She opted for the machete, as she removed its sheathe.

She sighed, as she tossed the weapon in her hands for some quick motor-memory practice: it just did not feel the same-a cold, dead weapon, no soul in it. And she really liked scythes, too-they were just a lot more fun for dodging and blocking. Yet the parameters had said it was best to dismember the targets so that, if possible, their individual parts could be returned to the Academy for study. She cringed, really not liking the idea of giving Stein something else to experiment upon.

As she replaced the other weapons into her knapsack, her wallet fell out, and of course it just had to open up on a the photographs she kept in there: an older image of her and her daughter, from which she had removed her ex-husband, and a new one she took earlier this year-a family portrait, as she was convinced by her darling daughter to tolerate Spirit long enough to sit for a snapshot.

At least he was still cute, she thought-and not quite as bad a father as he used to be.

"If I die, Spirit," she said to herself, "you had better protect Maka-or I swear, I will come back from the dead myself and freaking end you."

She stood, and slid down the hill, her boots kicking up dirt alerting her presence to the monsters milling below.

WRITER'S NOTES

This is my first attempt writing Azusa—and I make her the butt of a joke, repeatedly, in this fic, so that robs her of some depth. I'm still determining how to properly portray her. At least I enjoy the image of her as essentially the loser in an ugly sweater contest, and whatever happened with "Zu-Zu" and Marie when they were younger.

I'm not sure I like the idea of Kami still finding Spirit attractive: on the one hand, I think that the two were in love with each other, and I think it is realistic that lingering feelings could persist; on the other hand, after what Spirit did, I am not a fan of Kami ever re-marrying him, nor do I want her to come off as so shallow, especially when her daughter is going to be her top priority.

I drop more hints as to why I gave certain names to Kami's opponents. That story continues, if not in the next chapter, then in a few chapters later. But first, the story has to show how her story all the way in the Avenue of the Dead relates to what is going on in Death City.

Lord Death having an obsession with eggnog is not my idea: I am alluding to a video by Soul Eater Academy on YouTube (/watch?v=qml3mc0zxn0), and to the comic _Chip and Walter_ by illustrator John "Dub" Gray, in which the villain had a similar unhealthy addiction to the beverage. Gray's artwork and stories are a delightfully chaotic blending of the styles of Carl Banks, Jeff Smith, Chuck Jones, and others. Gray has since worked on Disney comics and Sonic the Hedgehog at Archie Comics—and his artwork is worth the price to check it out. You can find more of Dub's work at DeviantArt, user name jongraywb.

Next chapter: Back to Gallows Mansion to see how Soul and the others wrap up their gift preparations.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Kid exhaled, amazed to see his breath in the colder winter atmosphere. Despite the desert climate, Death City was full of surprises: little hints of the winter season managed to sneak into this southwestern oasis, whether autumn leaves falling around November, a colder climate in December, even blossoming flowers in spring. For a desert, it had some traits typical of less arid parts of the continent. Kid once heard stories from older Death Scythes that snow used to fall upon the city, a sight he had not yet seen. He rubbed his hands together, wondering what was taking Kristopher so long to arrive.

And why Black Star had not made his presence known already.

While he gave the ninja credit for keeping quiet for so long, at some point Kid was able to sense his soul, hovering above him as he struggled to balance himself on top of the stone entrance between the balcony and the DWMA hallway.

"If you wish to keep an eye on me, Black Star, you might as well partake in a conversation with me." He took a loud sip from the paper cup he had set on the balcony's banister.

Black Star's mouth hung open. "Come again?"

"Get down here and talk with me already."

"Oh. Okay." He bounced off the entrance and landed on his feet with a loud thud upon the balcony. "You sensed me, huh?"

He smiled. "You are improving at hiding your soul, assassin. But please, do not let your ego enlarge too much."

"Can't promise!" Black Star grinned, as he leaned against the banister. "Where did you score that coffee anyway?"

"Actually, it is hot chocolate. And I allowed myself into the commissary and prepared my own drink."

"Rule-breaker," Black Star smirked. "Give me a sip."

"No," Kid replied with a sneer.

"Jerk." Then he assumed a more serious demeanor. "You lied to them, huh?"

Kid sighed. "Not exactly."

"Not exactly?! You are taking off to who knows where for some mission, on Christmas Eve of all nights, instead of wrapping up your shopping and getting gifts for your weapons?"

"Not exactly."

"Oh, so you already got gifts for Liz and Patty."

Kid avoided eye contact. "Not exactly."

"Ah ha! You bastard! You can't even find a good enough gift for your own weapons, so you are just going to procrastinate and do anything you can but shop!"

"It is not shopping by which I procure gifts for my weapons, Black Star," Kid lectured at him. "It's just a matter of tradition."

"What?!"

He sighed. "What was Tsubaki's first Christmas gift for you?"

Black Star studied Kid, then turned to look at the Christmas lights adorning the roofs of multiple Death City homes that sat below their balcony.

"A new gi. My old one was all ratty and discolored from all the use I put into it. And from never washing it."

"First, that is disgusting," Kid lectured him on his personal hygiene. "Yet you see how well Tsubaki, despite knowing you so shortly, still in your first year as partners could anticipate a proper gift."

"Well, we have such small living quarters-kind of hard not to pick up little things on your weapon, right?"

Kid kept staring at the lights dotted across Death City below.

Hearing no reply, Black Star needed little reason to keep rambling: "What, having two weapons makes it twice as difficult?"

Kid sighed. "The first year I partnered with Liz and Patty, I could not think of one thing to get for them." He glanced at Black Star. "Can you imagine how awful it feels to not know what to get your own partner? I choose them, yet I fail to think of even one thing to get them." He gave a curt laugh. "Anything they asked for, I gave them-in terms of money, not in terms of undermining my own ethics or logic: I absolutely forbade Patty from turning the stairway into a slip-and-slide."

"Didn't she do that your first year anyway?"

"Moving o-"

"And smash a hole in the ceiling to put in a Jacuzzi?"

"Moving on," Kid warned him, his eye twitching. "But after giving every single gift I could imagine, it either was something I could give them any time of the year, or was, well, unnecessary: if you can give that kind of gift any time of the year, it loses any uniqueness at Christmas. Come December 24, I still was struggling to imagine any gift left to hand the two of them." He sighed. "I failed as a meister, because I did not know what to get them. I was completely useless."

"Hell, I don't think I ever know what to get Tsubaki, and I'm hardly a _completely _failed and useless meister."

Kid grimaced. "You really are hopeless, aren't you?"

Black Star held up his hands. "Hey, I just mean that you can't expect to know every little thing about your partner: ruins the mystery, right? So I figure there are one of two gifts I can get her and not utterly fail: I get her something obvious that she needs-and hope it's not that obvious to her-or get her something completely useless."

"Those...are rather polar opposites, are they not?"

"All about balance, right?" Black Star smirked. "If it's something she needs, then it's all good; if it's something she would never need, then it's definitely the kind of gift only I would get her, right? It's not a Maka gift or a Soul gift-it's a me gift-and that's always going to be awesome!"

Despite himself, Kid smirked: this was another one of those rare occasions in which he was in agreement with Black Star's paradoxical yet somehow sensible advice.

He gripped Kid's shoulders with both hands. "So, what's your patented Kid gift going to be?"

Kid narrowed his eyes, then closed them and gave a small smile. "You."

Black Star studied him. "Thanks, but I already have a great weapon. Plus I think Liz would get on my nerves after a while."  
"Black Star-"

"Patty's cool, though. At least she can kick some ass."

"Black S-"

"Not as much as me, though."

He slapped his hands over Black Star's mouth. "Pay attention, okay?"

Black Star nodded. Kid removed his hands. "Look. Since my first year working with Liz and Patty, I...may have cheated on gifts."

"Really? How can you even cheat on gifts?"

"I had help." He looked over the balcony. How much longer was Kristopher going to take? "I trade one day of my year-Christmas Eve-to help an old friend of my father with his work. In exchange, he is able to provide me with the perfect gift for my weapons."

"This Kris guy, huh?"

"Kristopher, yes. But this year I already know what gift to get Liz and Patty, so I do not need to give up my day to assist him."

"Then go home already!"

"I cannot. I made other plans, as I will have to travel to retrieve the gifts for Liz and Patty." He avoided eye contact with Black Star. "And I need a favor from you."

"What would that be?"

Before Kid could answer, a bright light shone from beneath the balcony, and there arose on a spinning platform-colored with red and white stripes, shaped like a children's top. While the top itself continued spinning, somehow levitating the machine, the platform at its top remained stationary, evident by the two persons standing upon it. One was a very tall, very muscular, yet somewhat portly man in a crimson jacket and black slacks, and next to him a very short man, tanned and in a pressed suit.

Stairs opened from the platform's spinning bottom, resting upon the balcony below. Black Star studied the 6'4" large man who was now descending the stairway, his shorter comrade following behind him. Both had beards-the taller man's fluffy and white, the shorter man's trimmed and black. The taller man's coat seemed a bit too thick for Death City-he must shop at the same place Maka gets her long coat, Black Star thought, if he was able to wear something so hot in such a warm climate yet still look so cool. The shorter man's suit was rather monochromatic-an emerald green-save for the crimson tie. The taller man's thick black boots thudded onto the balcony, as Black Star worried whether the balcony could support this fat guy's weight. His boots were wet, too, sloshing as he stepped. The shorter man's shoes were of expensive leather, as he delicately avoided stepping in the melted snow left by his peer's footsteps. Black Star took a big whiff of the air: he smelled like gingerbread, peppermint, and...sawdust? The shorter man wore too much cologne.

The shorter man stopped walking, while the big man continued a few more paces before halting in front of Kid, both he and the Grim Reaper's son eying each other with hard stares. There seemed little jovial in the man's expression as he studied the seemingly equally unamused Kid. His beard heaved, not from labored breathing, but an overwhelming emotion that Black Star could not feel. The larger man pulled back his arms and let out a roar-it sounded to Black Star like a polar bear-as Kid tried to ready himself to resist. Shocked, Black Star got onto his toes ready to leap to defend his friend-and plummeted face first onto the balcony's floor, the shorter man having tripped his toes with a cane. What the hell was it with short annoying people with canes, Black Star thought, as he could only look up to see the red coated man put the squeeze on Kid, who had the wind knocked out of him.

"Kiddo!" the man bellowed with a hearty chuckle. "How are you?" He rocked Kid like an infant, hugging the child so tightly. "How's your dad holding up-still drinking all that nog?!"

"Yes, sir," Kid choked out, his smile persisting despite the searing pain shooting through his ribs. "Although it seems he is missing some of his preferred winter drink."

"Oh!" The large man let go, sending Kid falling onto his behind with a loud thud. "I best re-stock his supply tomorrow, then. Oh, but we have other work to attend to first."

He placed his hand inside his red coat, as Kid held out his hand, knowing what was coming. A weapon, Black Star thought. Again he readied himself to leap-and again was tripped by the short man's cane.

"What the hell?!" the ninja shouted, at which point the short man shoved a candy cane into his orifice-length-wise, preventing Black Star from closing his gaping maw. The short man shushed him, pointing to the large man, who handed Kid a thin pencil box.

"Merry Christmas, Kid! Careful with the pointy tip on the compass-it'll poke your eye out! Oh, and don't sharpen those pencils too much just because you want to keep them the same length-symmetry isn't everything!"

"Oh course, sir," Kid said, struggling to force a laugh to humor his father's old friend as he deposited his yearly pencil set into his coat's pocket.

"Say, now, that reminds me of a math joke!"

"Please, Kristopher, we do not have time for-"

"Well, it's the only math joke I know, but here we go: what did the acorn say when it grew up?"

One pair of eyes stared blankly at the crimson man, two more struggled not to look bored.

" 'Gee, I'm a tree!'"

Silence persisted.

"Get it?"

"Right-o, sir," the short man said.

"I don't," Black Star said.

The man with the white beard looked embarrassed. "Ho, I guess you had to be there! See, it's a homonym: if you say it aloud-"

"Really, sir, we're on a schedule here," the short man interrupted. "You mind picking up the pace?"

"Oh, Rupert," the red coated man replied, laughing despite the hint of offense he took. "Ho, ho, fine, fine." He turned to the mini-reaper. "So, Kid, I see you have a new partner for me this year."

Kid smiled, apologetically. "I should know that I cannot keep secrets from you, yes?"

"Right-o, Kid," the shorter man said. Black Star was finding the short man's happy dialogue to be really annoying given his gravelly voice and stony glare. "Kristopher here figured it out as we entered Nevada State airspace."

Black Star glanced down at the taller man's shoes, still not sure the balcony could handle such a fat guy like this.

"I assure you it can, Black Star."

The ninja blinked. "Um, I didn't say anything."

The tall man, Kristopher, tapped his own head. "You did up here, child. I tend to know the thoughts of people like you."

Black Star put his hands to his hips, leaning back his head with a wide smile. "Awesome people?"

"Naughty people."

Black Star stopped his haughty pose, and leaned his face as close as he could to the taller man. "And who the hell do you think you're dealing with, big boy?!"

Kid grimaced, exchanging a look with Rupert, who simply shrugged. The large man simply giggled. "You know, despite how long Black Star's been on the naughty list, he's one of my favorite children! Ho ho! It's like being a school principal: you always tend to know best the least well behaved children. But I suppose your father already knows that, huh, Kid?"

Kid groaned. "Black Star," he began, pointing hesitatingly at his father's old friend, "this is Kristopher Kringle."

Black Star blinked. "Dumb name."

Kid's eye twitched again. "Kris Kringle."

"Okay. But who the hell is he?"

Kid slapped his forehead: Black Star still wasn't getting it.

Rupert finally spoke up. "It's Santa, you mook."

Black Star's face stayed as it was for what felt like almost a minute, while Kristopher-Santa Claus-kept the same grin on his face as he shut his eyes.

Then Santa Claus felt a pile of weight land in his arms, that he feared he was going to get a hernia. "Ho nelly!"

"Santa! It is so great to see you again!"

"Um, this is the first time we have officially met, child."

"No, I leapt into your lap at least seven times today!"

"It was eight," Rupert said, consulting a clipboard he removed, surprisingly, from such a small jacket pocket. "Two hospitalized from overgrown child injuries, one quit the mall in disgust, one filing a lawsuit against the Academy." He slapped the clipboard against Kid's chest, walking past the stunned mini-reaper as he approached Santa, reached up to one of the straps around Black Star's waist, and yanked the ninja so hard that his chin slammed against the balcony's floor. "Please do not manhandle jolly old Saint Nicholas, hmm?" He kept walking past the grounded ninja to inspect the balcony's entrance into the DWMA hallway, glancing back and forth for any eavesdroppers.

Kid held out a hand to lift Black Star back up. "You know Santa?!"

"As I said, family friend." He placed a hand upon Black Star's shoulder. "Kristopher, having reviewed mission parameters, you will benefit more from someone who frequently engages in hand-to-hand combat and assassinations than someone such as me."

"And this of course has nothing to do with your tendency to be late with gift-shopping, Kid?"

Kid blushed. "Of course not, sir," he squeaked.

"Huh. Santa has you running scared, Kid?" He glanced back at the jolly white-bearded man. "Look at the guy! He's a big old ball of fun and happiness, spreading joy to everyone with gifts a plenty." Then a thought reached Black Star's brain. "And you have a backlog of gifts for me, right Santa? I haven't gotten a gift at Christmas time in years?"

Santa glanced at Rupert, then tilted back his head and laughed. "Ho ho...no. Just, just no."

Black Star blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I only give presents to small good children, Black Star!"

"But I haven't gotten a gift from you since I was eight!"

"Like I said, _good_ children!"

Kid rubbed his neck and grimaced. Black Star looked stunned.

"Black Star," Santa said, gently laying his palm on the ninja's shoulder, "you have the auspicious credit of being on my naughty list seven years running."

"Impossible! I'm only"—Black Star started counting on his fingers, then grabbed Kid's two open palms then held up five fingers on his left hand and one on his right—"this many!"

"Indeed, Black Star, for almost half of your existence, you have been very, very naughty. Rupert," he said to the elf standing next to him, "my list."

"Right-o, sir!" said the gravelly-voiced elf, as he unfolded a parchment from his pocket to hand to his boss.

Still staring at the two young men across from him, Santa adjusted his spectacles and pointed his finger onto the list, then peered down to find Black Star's name. "Ho ho, let's see...Age 9, you smashed a boy's glasses."

"Yeah, Ox's-'cause he made fun of Maka's dress!"

"Age 10, you pulled a prank on your foster father."

"Yeah-while Sid was showering after gym, I pulled the fire alarm-poor dude was left standing in the quad, clad only in soap suds."

Kid side-eyed Black Star. "Hmm. I remember hearing of that prank. Are there more interesting highlights?"

"Age 12, your classroom science experiment exploded bubble gum everywhere. Oh, dear...Your poor friend Maka got so much stuck in her hair, she had to cut off her own pigtails!"

"And Soul had to get a haircut to match, too!" Black Star let out a boisterous laugh that even made Santa jealous, the jolly man finding himself rather impressed with Kid's friend. "Soul hated seeing how badly Maka was feeling, so he cut off his bedhead look for her!" He ribbed Kid. "You should have seen their hair-they looked like twins! So adorable! So lame!"

"The symmetry is appreciated though misplaced, Black Star," Kid chastised him.

"Age 13. You spit into Soul's soda."

Kid's eyebrows rose. "Actually," he said with a smile, "that is rather humorous." He took a sip from his hot chocolate.

"Age 16. You spit in Kid's hot chocolate."

Santa instinctively moved his right foot behind his left, anticipating that as the exact spot on the balcony where Kid would cough up his beverage.

Sure enough, Kid did.

"When did that happen?!" the mini-reaper shouted, doubled over to hack up the rest of his drink.

"Three minutes ago, Kid, when you weren't looking."

Black Star titled his head back, guffawing. "Always a holiday classic!"

It was worth it, Black Star thought, as he felt the heel of Kid's boot collide with the back of his head. Even the puddle of blood forming on the balcony's floor didn't feel that bad.

"Oh, dear," Santa bemoaned. "Rupert! Procure the first aid!"

"Right-o, sir!"

A few bandages later, and Black Star was back standing.

"So, how do I factor into all of this?"

Kid, still cross, explained the mission: "Santa's transportation has been grounded."

"What, the reindeer ate something bad?"

"Perhaps," Santa began, "but I never heard of food turning reindeer into zombies."

Black Star blinked. "Like, Sid-esque zombies? But I thought only Stein could pull that off."

"Evidently through medical ways," Kid replied after he had gargled mouthwash provided to him by the ever prepared Rupert and his magic bag of tricks. He even provided the mini-dentist sink in which to spit into, before the elf chucked the entire mess over the balcony-a cat's screech confirming its landing. "But it seems there are some primarily non-medical tactics to command the will of someone to make them, from the soul to their body, into a zombie. It seems whoever is controlling the reindeer is taking the more traditional approach of voodoo: the reindeer are not dead, but as you overheard from my discussion with Father, my concern is whether those reindeer need be put down in order to free them from such magical control."

Kid glanced to Santa, who finally assumed a depressed demeanor. The young reaper then looked to Black Star. "It has been a while since I have encountered voodoo as an option for controlling the souls of anyone, and I am sure Father would be most interested in making sure that we do not have a new threat emerging, so shortly after...previous opponents we have fought."

Black Star studied Kid. Was he shaking? It wasn't that cold out.

Kid composed himself. "Hence it is of paramount importance that you succeed at this mission," Kid said. "If Santa lacks transportation, children lack presents. And the DWMA has enough problems that we do not need to have children turn into Kishins out of holiday bitterness."

Black Star raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? Whoever heard of Kishins being created through poor gifts?"

"Ho, ho, Black Star," Santa laughed, gently rubbing through Black Star's distinctively styled hair. "Have you ever faced wrathful children who were so pissed off upon receiving only socks and underwear for Christmas?"

"Yeah, me!" Black Star answered.

"Oh, you are nothing compared to other threats I have faced, child," Santa said, jovially. "Why, I would rather tussle with twelve Kishins then even one frowning child."

Black Star pouted. "I'm frowning, and you ain't giving me jack shit this year."

Santa met the frown with a smile. "You get the gifts that you deserve for the reasons that you deserve them, child." He marched to his spinning platform, Rupert following behind him. "So, are you coming or what?"

Black Star stared at Kid, who simply shrugged. "So, why me?" the ninja asked.

Kid placed both hands on his shoulder. "If anyone can retrieve someone from such madness, it would be you."

Black Star kept his eyes on Kid, as he blushed. "Hell, why not Maka? I...I'm not that good at the whole anti-madness stuff. I tend to just go mad, you know?"

"Black Star," Kid continued, "that is just the reason: you will have the tenacity to take down whatever controls those reindeer and to find another option to save them." He removed his hands from his shoulders. "And while Maka would indeed be an ideal candidate to send along with Santa here, there are extenuating circumstances that make her inclusion in this mission suspect: I need complete secrecy on this mission, do you understand?"

The assassin blinked, his usual arrogant smile returning. "Um, have you met me? When we get back from the Academy, I'm going to tell everyone that I fought zombie reindeer with Santa! You can't stop me from that!"

Kid smirked. "Watch us. While I have 99.9 percent certainty that Maka may keep this secret should she ever learn t, there is still that less than one percent doubt that she would talk. With you, however, while I am 100 percent certain will you blab to everyone in the school, Kristopher and I have determined the best way to keep you silent."

"And what would that be?"

"Black Star," Santa interrupted, assuming a tone like a parent negotiating with a petulant child, "if you help me with this mission-whatever happens, success or failure-I will remove your from the naughty list."

Black Star stared, then grumbled. "Like that will buy off my silence." His eyebrows rose. "Hey! You already know I will blab! So you already know you will never take me off the naughty list! This is an exercise in futility!"

"Yep!" Santa boasted.

Black Star shrugged. "Well, can't argue with that logic. Fine." He marched past Santa onto the platform. "But I am so going to be annoying the entire ride up to the North Pole!"

"This is different how?" Kid, Santa, and Rupert simultaneously asked.

Black Star could feel his eye twitching. "Let's just go!"

He felt a slap to his back. "That's the Christmas spirit!" How the hell did Santa already get back on the platform that quickly? "Let's depart! Rupert, lock in our coordinates!"

"Right-o, Santa," the elf said. Wait, how the hell did he get there next to Black Star?!

Black Star shook his head, desperate to think about anything else. He saw Kid waiting on the balcony below, staring up at his fried. "And where will you be, Kid, if not helping out on this mission?"

"I have an appointment I should have kept years ago." He glanced at one of the clocks in the hallway behind him. "And based on time zone differences, it should already be Christmas there." He then opened the palm of his hand, a mixture of black swirls and illuminated skulls escaping as his flying skateboard, Beelzebub, emerged. "I trust you, Black Star-watch Santa's back, okay?"

As Kid flew out of sight, Black Star's mouth curled at one side, as he marched the steps up to the spinning platform and crossed his arms. "This thing going to get us to the North Pole very quickly?"

"Faster than you could," Rupert muttered.

"Now, now, my friend," Santa said gently, "let's have none of that bickering. Rupert, if you will, set a course for the North Pole!"

"Right-o, Santa." With that, a hologram appeared around Rupert's hand, forming into a globe of the Earth. With a touch to the tip of the planet, the platform's steps closed up to the bottom of the platform, and the platform, spinning like a top, ascended, then shot through the sky like a comet. Black Star, not anticipating the acceleration, flew back, barely catching the edge of the platform as he held on for dear life, as the transportation sailed for the North Pole.

o-o-o

WRITER'S NOTES: Chapter 5

I am writing that Patty and Jacuzzi story: it is the first fan fic request I probably will finish before the end of 2013.

SymmetryLocked was the one who clued me into the idea that Kid would prefer hot chocolate to coffee. Check out the author's fic "Random Soul Eater Oneshots" for that headcanon.

Black Star embodies my last-ditch gift-giving philosophy: something entirely useful or entirely useless is about the worst that you can do if you are stuck determining what to give someone for a gift.

I hesitated on adding Santa Claus, but I wanted something in the story that embodied many of the Christmas special tropes, and the jolly old elf is one of the most iconic characters to include. The struggle was not to repeat what had been done, and with _Soul Eater_ already drawing upon so much from _The Nightmare Before Christmas_, I did not want to do what Burton and Selick had done which is a humorless, old, though badass Santa.

I had initially drafted Santa as starting out as serious as Kid first makes him out to seem, while he evolves through his interaction with such a big-hearted kid as Black Star—yet I do not have the room right now for that characterization, and I am already so cynical that I really do not want to portray a bitter, hardened Santa: I like my Santa being this optimistic ball of hope, in spite of whatever challenge he faces. And I think that having him closely resemble Black Star in that boundless optimism, while potentially annoying by having two almost identical characters, does allow them to bounce off of each other well. If you hang in there with me, there is some pathos to this Santa, and I hope it helps to develop Black Star.

Instead of bitter Santa, I drew a lot from the happier, wacky, and slightly unhinged portrayal of Santa that I encountered in the animated series _The Tick_—and I think I completely plagiarize or, at best, allude to that series' portrayal when I have Santa passing out pencil sets and other underwhelming Christmas gifts to the Tick and Arthur. Please search for and watch "The Tick Loves Santa": it is a delightful, hilarious Christmas special that has that cracked sense of humor I was trying to bring to this story. Plus _The Tick_ comes from the guy who has worked on _Angel_, _Dr. Horrible_, and _Supernatural_, so it should appeal to a lot of viewers.

It is almost entirely coincidental that Rupert in my story resembles the Secret Service Elves in _The Tick_: I had Rupert in mind when I had him meet with Kami, and I liked the image of a shorter, more serious individual contending with a bigger, jovial character—kind of a Laurel and Hardy or George and Junior dynamic. Plus there is more to Rupert as regards his partnership with Santa—but we'll get to that in another chapter.

The bubblegum remark is an allusion to adorable fan art on Tumblr by missymoobelle, eisschirmchen, alzer, and more. Seriously, check out this post by alzer on Tumblr: /post/48558202618/welcometodeathcity-s-puff-eisschirmchen

**Next Time: **We finally get back to Soul and Maka, and we see how Liz's privileged knowledge allows her to ease some tension between the two.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

The trip was far quicker than he had anticipated, despite time zone differences. As Kid flew east on Beelzebub, he enjoyed the view from above: the dots of light on the towns below lifted even his spirits at this time of year. He smiled, and inhaled the air deeply-because for once, he had determined the perfect gifts for Liz and Patty. He would need help to procure them, though: Kristopher had his aids putting the finishing touches on one of the gifts to deposit at his home by midnight tonight-assuming, of course, there was still a Christmas, should Black Star and Kristopher fail at their mission.

At least Kid could procure the second gift, should his associate be amenable to his request-although he did not seem so cooperative in their most recent correspondence. He was amazed to hear such descriptive insults: he did not think half of those bodily descriptions were physically possible.

As he ruminated, Kid barely missed crashing into a bridge. He swerved in time through the suspension cables, sailing down across some irate pedestrians, almost colliding with a yellow taxi. The repeated shouts of "You fucking moron!" echoed through his ears. He shrugged it off: he heard worse from his weapons before.

That was apt, of course, as this was where they were born.

He landed on the shore of Long Island, replaced Beelzebub back into the palm of his hand, and turned to admire the view from that spot. The Brooklyn Bridge he had just crossed looked all the more magnificent from further away, if only because he did not have to contend with such irate New Yorkers this distance away.

CLICK.

He felt the pistol's barrel pressed against his lower back.

Well, so much for that, Kid thought.

"Money, now, Mack. And wherever you just hid that fancy skateboard."

"Oh, you want to see where I keep that fancy skateboard, eh?" Kid said, turning with hands up to face his mugger. "Here, then."

Kid proceeded to slap the mugger across the face, and before the assailant could pull the trigger, hold his right hand frozen as he twisted his trigger finger enough that he let out a wail of pain and dropped the weapon. But before it collided with the sidewalk, Kid scooped it up, and in a fluid movement, not only removed its cartridge, but disassembled most of the device, which except for the magazine he flipped through the air, all landing in separate garbage cans that just happen to be in the area where he had touched down.

Then Kid slapped the assailant with his other hand to effect symmetry, and walked away. "Merry Christmas, you disgusting brute," he shouted. He then tossed the magazine over his head, sending it into the river below. He glanced at the terrified individual and added, "May you live so long to see New Year."

o-o-o

"And in China?"

"Dun Che Lao Ren."

"Who makes the toys-you, elves, or outsourced labor?"

"All of the above."

"If you are old friend's with Lord Death, does that make you one of the Great Old Ones?"

"Yep! I'm the Madness of Charity! Here, have a candy cane!"

"Thanks! Oh, I keep hearing something on TV: are you white or black?"

"Filipino, actually."

Rupert's eye was twitching. He was not sure which was more annoying: Black Star's incessant questions, or Santa's mix of honest and fallacious answers-ever the trickster, that jolly old elf, Rupert thought.

"Why don't you deliver toys in poor neighborhoods?"

"The holiday season should encounter charity in all people! Look to yourself, young Black Star, and give out of your own sense of concern for your fellow-"

"What do you do if a place doesn't have a chimney?"

"I fit through the mail slot," Santa continued, not at all seemingly offended by the interruption.

"What if there isn't one?"

"I break a window and let myself in. Ho, the number of times I had the cops chasing me-my mug shot is plastered across half the globe! Shh...don't call the cops: I still have some unpaid traffic. Lord criminy, the mess flying reindeers make, woo!"

"You're so cool, Santa!"

"Thanks!" He reached into his coat. "Here, have a protractor!"

Black Star stared at the flimsy plastic geometry tool. "Um, thanks?"

"Enough with this prattling!" Steam was coming out of the short man's ears. "Stop with the questions, stop with the answers, and stop with the cheap gifts, Santa, or I swear, I will turn this spinning top around, you two!"

Santa and Black Star's smiles disappeared, as they mumbled, "Yes, Rupert."

After placing the pathetic math instrument into his pocket, Black Star looked over the edge of the spinning platform, at the multi-colored dots littering the awful blackness below. "I never thought I'd be so bored seeing sparkly Christmas lights," he muttered into his hand, before his eyes brightened. "Hey! That's my house there!"

"No, it's not," Rupert said to Black Star. "Nor was the previous house, or the previous 28 ones we passed. We are already in Nova Scotia-we are so far removed from Death City, that you might as well point at the clouds and say that you live there."

"Well, I am a big star." Black Star crossed his arms, applauding himself for his wordplay.

As the elf Rupert growled at this interloper, Santa Claus placed a gentle hand on his old partner, smiled, and gestured that he continue his excellent work focusing on navigating the spinning top platform to their destination at the North Pole.

"Black Star, my boy," Santa said, "you do understand what is ahead of you, yes?"

"Not really," he blurted, scratching the bandages still around his forehead. "I kind of lost focus about the whole 'Christmas is doomed!' talk."

"Ho?" Santa asked. "You don't take such talk seriously?"

"Not with us on the job! You're freaking Santa! How can Christmas ever end with you around? You're like everyone's crazy awesome grandpa!" He paused. "Hey, how old are you, anyway?"  
"Ho, ho, ho!" Santa laughed, as he continued his pleasant tone: "If you don't stop asking such rude questions, I will knock you over this platform just to listen to you scream and admire the mess you make on the ground."

"How can you not love this guy?!" Black Star cried, hearing only the tone and not the content of Santa's message. "But you said it was something about reindeer zombies, right? And I heard Lord Death said to kill them if necessary, but then Kid said that wasn't cool, so you want me to save these guys from zombie-fication, right?"

Santa stared, his eyes shutting as he chuckled. "Amazing! You do listen!"

"Listen to what?" Black Star asked confused.

"Ho, ho, ho...You really are hopeless, aren't you?"

"Aw, I love you too, Santa!"

Hearing such a delightful conversation, Rupert considered how much less painful it would be if he simply leapt from the spinning platform and allowed his body to crash against the welcoming embrace of the earth below. Remembering the oath to protect his partner, however, he silenced the thought, and adjusted the trajectory. "North Pole in a half hour, gentlemen. I suggest you prepare yourselves."

"Ready, Black Star?" Santa asked.

"Hell yeah I am! I've been practicing some camouflage tactics-trust me, the reindeer won't see me, and we'll find out whoever is controlling those animals and get them back to get your gifts out to all the good girls and boys!"

"Good man!" Santa said, his tone and content finally corresponding with each other as he patted Black Star on the back. "Onward, Rupert!"

"Right-o, Santa."

o-o-o

Liz stretched her arms behind her head, as she was curled up on the couch, shoes kicked off, having just changed into a warm and fashionable sweater after the nice hot shower she had. She reached for the coffee waiting for her on the side table, when a crash echoed throughout the hallway, spilling the contents onto the floor.

"I told you to stay out of the bookstore!"

Liz glared from her seat out to the hallway, then at her tipped drink. She sighed: if Kid really was not so worried about properly arranged decorations, he probably wouldn't notice carpet stains until morning.

"You don't get to mark your territory wherever you want, bookworm!"

"Could you be any more crass?!"

"Yes!"

Liz sighed. After what Tsubaki had told her about Maka's mother, and based on what she figured out about Soul while sorting papers for Lord Death, she was getting really tired of their shit.

"Oh, hi, guys!" Tsubaki called out from the kitchen. She was dressed in an apron, as she was struggling to coordinate four different tasks simultaneously in preparing a Christmas Day meal for Kid and the Thompsons-her early gift to them. "How was shopping?" Her expression did not do well to cover the apparent knowledge she had that the answer was going to be a depressing one.

Tsubaki backed up a step once Maka's gaze fell upon her. "This moron could not follow directions if his life depended on it!" Maka glared at her partner. "What was that you said earlier, that you already finished your holiday shopping?!"

"I am finished!" Soul protested. "It just doesn't hurt to double-check in case I'm missing anything."

Liz rolled her eyes.

"I wanted to search the bookstore before you found any gift there!" Maka shouted.

"Bullshit!" Soul replied. "Like I'd find anything for myself at that store! And why were you there? See, this is why it is always so difficult to shop for you-you find the gifts you want before I ever do, then you buy them for yourself, then I'm stuck having to come up with a new gift!"

Yep, getting real tired of their shit, Liz thought.

"I wasn't going to buy anything for myself, Soul! I have more self-control than you!"

Soul avoided eye contact. "No idea what you mean."

"I could see you at the record store, Soul! Why were you there?"

He did not answer. Liz and Tsubaki cringed, looking at each other. The former slowly stood, and backed up out of the living room and then dashed for the kitchen: she did not want to be caught in the inevitable Maka Chop jamboree about to commence. As she entered, Tsubaki closed the separation between the kitchen and the living room. Despite their desire not to get involved, however, she and Liz found themselves still leaning against the barrier, waiting to hear the argument boil over.

Silence persisted. Then they heard footsteps depart out of the living room, and the front door to the mansion open, yet not close. The two weapons looked at each other, then peered through a crack in the separation. They saw Maka sitting on the couch, fuming, her chin held by her hands as her elbows rested between her legs.

"Huh. That was anticlimactic. Not even a kick to the shins, a punch to the gut, a-?"

"Liz-focus!" Tsubaki continued to peep. "They didn't get anything for each other? They were gone for two hours!"

"Soul got her something, I know it," Liz said. "But Maka? I'm not sure she got him anything."

"Oh, I disagree," Tsubaki said. "In all the years I've known Maka, she is the more prepared for these gift-giving occasions."

"You don't think Soul got her anything?"

"No, no, he was prepared-he did get her a gift." Tsubaki paused. "Which...may explain why Maka is so nervous."

"How so?"

"If Soul did so well this year, then maybe Maka feels her gift is not adequate."

Liz sighed. "Idiots." She smirked. "I could think of something she could give Soul."

Tsubaki blushed. "Gutter brain!"

"Hey, you thought of it too, perv!"

Tsubaki crossed her arms, avoiding eye contact. "Whatever." She cleared her throat to change the subject. "Where is Patty?"

"She said she had writing to finish."

Tsubaki blinked. "No, really, where is she? I thought she was helping you cook."

"I'm not lying, Tsu! She snatched my laptop and darted for her room! I think she was serious on this one."

Tsubaki's eyes widened, and she blushed harder. "Oh boy."

"What is it?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all!" Tsubaki shouted, as she waved her hands before her.

Liz smiled, deciding to drop the subject for now. "So, returning to our happy couple out there, I don't suppose you got gifts for them that you may want to give early to smooth out the hostility?"

"I do not tend to give gifts early-my parents engrained that rule in me," Tsubaki started. "You know, barring the meal I am preparing for all of us."

"Much appreciated, by the way."

"Nevertheless, I consider it my gift to the rest of us if I can just keep the peace for this evening. We do not want a repeat of previous holiday get togethers: Thanksgiving a year ago, Halloween before that."

"The horrifying experience of Easter?"

Tsubaki and Liz simultaneously shuddered. "Too much chocolate," the former said.

Liz then patted Tsubaki on the shoulder. "Let me try to mend some fences. Focus on whipping up some food for tomorrow's dinner, and see whether you could rope Maka into helping out, okay? You know, take her mind off of things. I'm going to borrow Soul for a bit of a midnight run."

Tsubaki did not get a chance to clarify what Liz meant, her friend already walking out of the kitchen and into the hallway. She tiptoed past the living room entrance-not that it mattered, Maka could not only sense her soul but still see her out the corner of her eye-and out the still opened front door to the mansion, where she found Soul sitting on the front step.

The Death Scythe's head was pressed against his knees, as if he was blocking out the entire world from him. Set next to him was a bottle of cola-he must have bought it at the mall, Liz thought-and the cap was removed yet Soul had barely drunk any of it. All he heard was someone sit next to him.

"Maka, I-"

"Wrong girl."

He lifted his head with a start.

"Hey!"

His sad eyes resumed their usual cold stare. "Hey."

"So, Christmastime, huh?"

Soul studied her. "Yeah?" He took the cola bottle to his lips. She let the silence hang for a moment. She waited until he sipped on his drink.

"So, one sibling to another-"

Soul started to choke.

"-You write to your brother yet this year?"

Soul spit up his drink. "W-wha—?!" He held his nose. "Gah, the carbonization burns! Ug! How did you know about-?"

Liz held up a hand. "Who do you think delivered that first letter-the first you wrote to him since you came to the Academy-while you were recovering from that…well, Crona's first attack?" Liz's voice trailed off towards the end, not wanting to bring up their still missing former colleague.

Soul's eyes softened a bit, as he avoided eye contact, not wanting to bring zher up either. "I only told Tsubaki about him-I thought she delivered it!"

"She was preoccupied that day, so she had me send it." She stretched back her arms. "Actually, I only looked at the address, nothing more. I didn't figure out he was your brother back then-I didn't think that some letter addressed to the musician Wes Evans had anything to do with you, the almighty Soul Eater."

Soul grimaced. "Wes...Someone else I can't bring home for the holidays," he muttered. Then he raised his voice. "But how would you piece together—"

"Please. Another white haired, red-eyed musically inclined guy, and you think half the DWMA can't figure it out?"

Soul glared at her. "No, especially not you."

Liz shrugged. "And being the Grim Reaper's glorified secretary, I…" she held her hands together, nervously, "may have had occasion, while doing some paperwork 'cause Kid took too long just to write his name, maybe, sort of...peek at your private student file."

"What?!"

"If it's any consolation," she said, holding up her hands, "Soul Evans sounds much better!"

"You went through my file! You looked at my name-change form?!"

"I also found out that Kim's birthday isn't really April 31!"

"Stop going through people's files!" Soul paused. "And that isn't even a real date, you bonehead!"

"Don't get mad at me!"

"You spied on people!"

"Okay, that's actually a fair reason to get mad at me! But seriously! Stop yelling!"

"I'll yell if I-!"

Liz slapped a hand over his mouth. "No, really," she whispered, "you don't want Maka hearing."

Soul's eyes widened, then hardened back to a glare, communicating to Liz that he would keep quiet, for now. She removed her hand. "Really, though, she's your partner-keeping a secret from her is a pretty bad idea."

He sighed.

"Okay." He crossed his arms. "Then maybe you could do me a favor, concerning another family problem."

"What, you mean about you fath—"

"Don't," he whispered, pointing at her, "not that." He lowered his finger. "It's about Maka's family."

"What, because her dad's on a mission?" Liz knew what he meant-she just didn't want to say it.

"Because her _mom's_ on a mission."

She clenched her teeth. "Um, maybe I'm not the best person for that," she started, rubbing the back of her neck. "Last time I was around her, she kind of tried to kill me."

"Misunderstanding." He eyed her. "On your part."

"Not my fault that Kid thought she was a witch—!"

Now it was Soul's turn to cover her mouth. "We really need to practice softer talking."

Liz nodded, then he removed his hand. "But how can I help?"

Soul smiled. "Maka!" he called out. "Is there any cola left?"

"No!" he heard from the kitchen. At least she was talking to him again.

"Get me some!"

"Get off your lazy ass and pick some up!" came a cry from the kitchen.

He smirked, as he sat up, and deposited his hands in his pockets.

Liz returned the smirk. "Hey, Soul, wait up!" she called out to the kitchen. "I need coffee, too, and you won't get the right kind unless someone directs you!"

"Jeez, fine!" Soul feigned being insulted, still calling to the kitchen. "Then come along already!"

"And pick up some more eggnog!" came a slightly slurred shout from the kitchen.

Soul and Liz looked at each other in surprise and shrugged. "Okay, sis!" Liz called.

o-o-o

WRITER'S NOTES: Chapter 6

In my headcanon, Tsubaki and Liz already know about Soul's brother, and not even Maka knows. In my mind, she only found out a bit before the manga ended-and that was because she meets Wes Evans, but that's another story I haven't gotten to. It is drastic to have Soul reveal, on purpose or inadvertently, his real name and his brother before even telling his own partner. Yet I think it fits for a few reasons.

First, as I hint here, Liz works for Kid, and given her personality and skill, I expect she has the motivation and the talent to find information in the DWMA files that she really should not find. I would imagine that the DWMA keeps exhaustive records on its students, especially regarding their real names and keeping track of which names they are using at any time-it would be pretty confusing for students to keep permanent records of grades, accomplishments, and demerits if they could change their names so often. I remember that ocha-no-deathscythe's story "Affinity" suggested the Academy tracks meisters and weapons who do not enroll in the school, so I'm borrowing that idea a bit regarding how Liz learned about Soul's identity. What she meant about Soul's dad, I'm not even sure yet.

Second, I keep working on this story of Soul talking with Tsubaki following her murder of her own brother. I cannot imagine that Soul, seeing a fellow weapon contending with that experience of fratricide, would not compromise his own family shame if he could help her out. And hence, as Liz says here, Soul depends on her: after his near-death injury, he sucks it up and, if he won't tell Wes where he is, he at least will write to let him know he is fine. (And, really, if Soul is so desirous to become such a Death Scythe, he has to know this fame will attract attention of his family when they learn he is at the Academy. Or, maybe his family already knows, and he never kept his enrollment a secret, but rather was keeping this secret from his teachers and classmates so he could stand on his own name and not through nepotism. I'm not sure where I'm going with this idea-we'll see whenever I write the Wes Evans story.)

I dislike the New York parts so far that I'm writing: I just can't figure out what to do with Kid in the Big City. Even that interaction with the mugger feels not only cliché but empty.

Hmm...I wonder what Patty is writing, and why Tsubaki is nervous.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Despite herself, Maka did walk down the hall to see Soul off. She stood in the hallway, far enough away that he and Liz did not notice her, and hence she only saw them walk down the driveway, past the gate and its guard, and then turn left back to where he had parked his bike. She then heard the motor turn on as he drove off with Liz.

She marched back to the kitchen. Gallows Mansion was less full than it usually was, which was saying something since it had only three permanent residents-four if you counted Lord Death, when he wasn't locked in the Death Chamber, that is. Maka glanced into the living room. Only Patty remained, her legs curled up on the couch, her back against one of its arms, and seated on her lap was a neon pink computer-likely stolen from her sister's room. Two cartons of eggnog sat on the coffee table, as she kept taking gulps from it while typing. Maka grimaced, not really sure she wanted to know what captivated Patty's attention as she typed furiously, or how she could stomach that drink. Still, it was amazing to see Patty so focused, her face so serious-but again, best not to ask what she was up to.

In the kitchen, Tsubaki remained, as she was preparing a few dishes for tomorrow's Christmas dinner-only what could keep a decent shelf life until tomorrow, such as some initial work on the salad and the desserts.

Despite herself, not wanting to bring attention to herself, Maka inhaled, and sighed.

Tsubaki said not a word, and did not look away from the cookbooks from Kid's library, which he had left out for her.

Okay, now Maka wanted a little attention. She walked up to where Tsubaki stood, placed her elbows on her counter, her chin into her hands, and sighed more loudly.

"If you have such oxygen deprivation, I hope Soul purchased you an inhaler or something this year, Maka."

She blinked at her friend. How was Tsubaki able to say utter such insults while still sounding so pleasant. Regardless how flustered and frustrated her friend's remark made her, Maka could not help but laugh. If she were around Black Star so much, she'd probably turn into a sugary sweet snarker, too-or, more likely, defenestrate the ninja at least four times a day.

"Can I help?" Maka asked, pointing to the cookbooks.

"No, I'm about finished with these dishes, and I want to wait a while before starting the main courses for tomorrow." She removed her apron. "Actually, I was about to take a break, so-" she patted on the kitchen chair opposite her.

Maka dragged her feet: it was funny how one minute she wants to talk, then as soon as the topic of gift-shopping is hinted at, she hesitates. "So, um, how is your day going?"

"Better than yours, it seems." Again, how could she be so snarky yet so sweet?

"Were we that loud?"

"I am more surprised you did not smack him this time. Is that your Christmas gift for Soul?"

Maka scratched her cheek, and avoided eye contact. "I wish."

"Oh, don't be modest, Maka!" Tsubaki said, grabbing her friend's arm and tugging at it. "Come on, out with it-I know you got Soul something great."

"I haven't gotten him anything."

The smile disappeared from Tsubaki's face. "Are you serious?"

"Very." She glanced at Tsubaki. "I'm sorry. I just can't think of anything, and I've been hitting my head against the wall for the better part of a month now!"

Now Tsubaki looked concerned. "You two have been busy. After all that work to make Soul into a Death Scythe, and then the additional training you both took, it makes sense that you both would be delayed in gift shopping."

"Soul hasn't."

"Well, he doesn't study as much as you!"

"He's been with me at every study session for the past two months-hasn't missed one, stayed as late as I did." Maka was staring at the wall, her frown turning downward more and more by the second.

Tsubaki cringed, struggling to find something optimistic to make out of this mess. "I'm sure he has struggled to brainstorm a great gift, too!"

"I think I already know what he got me."

"Oh, Maka-you didn't peek, did you?"

"No?"

Tsubaki crossed her arms and frowned.

"No, really! I just happened to find his receipt in his pants' pockets-"

"You dug through his pants?"

"We do each other's laundry, Tsubaki! I find things-I am observant!"

"Maka."

"He...went to my favorite bookstore. And to a chocolate shop. And a music store."

"That's three receipts."

"Okay, so I was thorough going through his pants."

Tsubaki smirked.

"Stop that!"

"I said nothing!" she held up her hands. "You find anything else juicy?"

"Tsubaki!" Maka paused. "I found $20, but I returned that to him."

Her friend blinked. "Well, no wonder he's angry-he knows that you know what he purchased! And now he's probably out there running around trying to find a better gift than what he already bought you!"

"You think I don't know that?!"

Their yelling was interrupted by a thud.

"Quiet in there! And bring me more eggnog!"

The two women looked at each other. At least they now knew what that creamy stuff was leaking on the partition between the kitchen and the living room.

Tsubaki calmed down. "Maka, I know you: I'm sure you got something Soul really good, and that you are being modest." She smiled widely. "So, what do you have?"

Maka studied her shoes. "A few items for his stocking."

"Well, good! What is in there?"

She was sweating.

"Maka?"

"A gift card to a hair salon I've been bugging him to go to."

Tsubaki's face froze.

"An electric toothbrush."

She was mortified.

"And a lottery ticket."

Tsubaki glowered. "Oh, Maka."

"I know, okay?!" She hit her head against the table. "I'm the worst," she mumbled into the wood.

Tsubaki stood from her chair, walked around, and hugged her. "These things take time, okay? Christmas is just a day-"

"No, it-!"

"Let me finish," Tsubaki said, kindly but sternly. "Soul has a great partner, who he knows will give him the right gift when she finds it."

She placed a hand under Maka's neck, tickled a little under there so she could lift her chin up.

"Stop that!" Maka giggled.

"Look at me!" Tsubaki said, giggling, too. "Look. Give yourself some more time to think through this gift giving problem, okay? I know it is not what you want, that you want to have the gift for him by Christmas Day, but no matter what, you will get him the perfect gift, when the time is right. Right?"

Maka stopped giggling, and sighed. "Okay. I'll give it more time."

They re-seated themselves.

"What have you gotten Soul in the past?"

"I used to buy him headbands-but he's outgrown them, I guess."

"Yes, I'm a bit happy he stopped wearing that girly one he started wearing a while ago!"

Maka glared at her. "I just said: I bought him that headband."

Tsubaki froze and started sweating. "Girly…is a great look for him!"

"Soul is a girly-girl!"

Both young women froze again.

"Patty has heard everything, hasn't she?" Maka said, her face falling back into despair.

"Every syllable, you terribly bad gift-giving meister!"

Maka slammed her head back against the table.

Tsubaki sighed. "Patty, please tell me you left me a bit of eggnog."

o-o-o

"Welcome to the Brooklyn Eagle, the borough's top news resource! How may I help you at this late hour?"

The receptionist was oddly chipper for this hour of night. Kid assumed it was the grande sized latte sitting on her table.

"Yes, hello. I am looking for Jeffrey Cruz. Is he present?"

"I'm sorry, but who is asking?"

Kid sighed, removing his wallet and showing his DWMA identification. "Lord Death's son, Death the Kid."

The woman's eyes widened. "Oh my...Um, you...you aren't here to collect his soul, are you?"

"No, I am not," Kid said, replacing his wallet. "I had called him earlier concerning some materials I thought he might have, but upon future correspondence with him he has not replied." He looked past her, to see the few night-beat reporters milling in the back. "Perhaps you could direct me to his office?"

"He is home, sir," the woman said, her fingers texting furiously on the phone in her hands.

"May I ask that you please stop that? The clicking of your typing is rather distracting."

"Sorry-it's just, if I'm facing someone like you, sir, I-I-I would feel more comfortable letting my loved ones know in case something happened to-"

Kid seized her hands. "Nothing will. Now, please, I am in a hurry: this mission is very important to me, and Mr. Cruz may hold the key to it. Where is he?"

"Home, West Village, the Carrión Flats!"

"Thank you," Kid said, removing his hands from hers. He paused. "West Village. Manhattan?"

"Y-yes."

"Damn," Kid muttered. "Trying to fly through that many skyscrapers is never fun."

"May I suggest you have the proper New York experience and take the subway!" She sounded happier, although she became timid again when his golden eyes met her blue ones. "J-just head north on Whitman Boulevard until you reach the subway station, and there take the 8 Train."

He perked up. "Well, that does sound delightful! Thank you! And Merry Christmas!"

"Oh, wait!" the woman shouted, stopping Kid. She held up her phone, snapped a pic, and waved him off. Kid raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and sprinted out of the office and back down the stairs to street level.

The receptionist, Ligeia, looked down at her phone to finish her micro-blogging message and to attach the pic. "#OMG #DTK in #NYC!" She inhaled and exhaled, on the one hand overjoyed to have met Lord Death's actual son, on the other hand, still recovering from the shock she felt at potentially dying by his hand.

o-o-o

"Now, remember, Black Star, quietness is key to assassination," Santa whispered.

"Right, Santa," Black Star whispered back.

"Sir," Rupert whispered, as he looked over the snow bank and down into a valley oasis in the middle of the North Pole. "We have arrived at your workshop."

"Yahoo!"

"Ho! Ho! Ho!"

"Shh!" Rupert silenced them.

Both men slapped their hands over their mouths. "Sorry," they whispered.

They had been on foot for more than an hour, so that the spinning top would not attract attention. Rupert rubbed his temples, fearing his caution failed thanks to his partner's exuberance. He glanced back down the valley, but so far none of the potential threats there noticed their presence. The figure in the black hood in particular seemed particularly ignorant of them, pleasing the otherwise irritable elf.

"Say, Black Star. What is that battle cry you make?"

"Oh, you mean, 'Yahoo'?"

"Yes! Ya-ho-ho-ho!"

"Hey!" Black Star said, taking mock offense, playfully pushing the jolly old man. "Don't steal my line!"

Rupert narrowed his eyes, focusing on their targets below. He could count them all: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, all of them. Those reindeers' eyes were blank, and aptly enough they stumbled across the thick snow, not under control of themselves, only mindless beasts taking on a predictable pattern, pushing their noses against the snow or running into the barriers of snow banks, houses, and overturned sleds.

"Say it with me, lad!"

"Okay!"

Both chanted simultaneously: "Ya-ho-ho-ho!"

Two snowballs crumbled against the heads of both overgrown children.

"Stop with the pirate laughs!" Rupert said only loud enough for them to hear.

"Hey!" Black Star said, his face reddening. "Don't you dare call me a pirate!"

Another snowball knocked the ninja to the ground.

"There's the target, sir," Rupert said, patting the snow off his hands and off his designer winter coat.

"Ho," he said, spying upon milling reindeer. "Ho, ho, oh, my."

As Black Star grew concerned hearing someone like Santa so disconcerted about this image of voodoo zombiefied reindeer, the ninja's attention was on the black cloaked figure. He was seated in a throne-Santa's chair, which based on the marks on the snow the figure had evidently dragged from the elf's workshop.

"Anyone in the workshop?" Black Star asked.

"No, thank goodness," Rupert said. "Aside from me, all other employees were given their vacation, as they had finished their toy quota two weeks ago."

"And Mrs. Claus?"

Santa gave a jolly laugh. "Oh, that rat bastard is collecting alimony payments in Miami!"

Black Star now picked up on the contrast between Santa's words and tone of voice. "Bitter much?"

"Incredibly!" Santa giggled again.

Black Star raised an eyebrow at the otherwise jolly man, returning his attention to the threat below. "If it's voodoo that he's do-doing, then I say we knock down the black cloaked man." He narrowed his eyes. "Look at that disgusting bastard. He even has petrified antlers on his head-that ain't right." He studied him harder, peering into the darkness of the masked man-and noticed the shining light coming out of it. "I can even see the glint of his red eye."

Santa was stroking his beard, meditating on all this information. "Hmm...Red, huh? So, the prodigal son returns, eh?"

"The guy in the black pajamas is someone you know?" Black Star asked.

"Oh, we go a long way back."

Black Star shook his head. "Kid and his old family friends. I hate to know who else his family knows-having the Kishin being a best bud is bad enough."

"Ho? Is that how Lord Death refers to his own s-"

Rupert tugged at Santa's pant leg, crossing his flat hand over his neck. Santa took the hint, and silenced himself.

"Well, Black Star," Santa began, "I trust you know how to subterfuge to unman that foe and save my reindeer, ho ho ho?"

Silence persisted.

"Ho?" he asked.

"Um, Santa?" Rupert asked, pointing to the valley below, as a bulge was seen under the snow, as if someone tunneling from the bank to the throne below. As both elves noticed the gaping hole next to them where Black Star once stood, the identity of the bulge was easily identified.

"Ho! Marvelous! How smart he is-he is using literal subterfuge, Rupert! How clever!"

Rupert hesitated. "I...am honestly impressed, sir."

Then, only a few yards into the valley, nowhere near the throne, Black Star leapt from the snow, with a shout of "Ya-ho-ho-ho! Merry Christmas, fuckers!"

The hooded figure stood, assuming a pose of displeasure. His reindeer zombies stopped their milling, staring in surprise, their mouths hung open, whether from surprise or from their stupefaction. Both the tall man and his shorter partner, too, felt their chins hit the snow, mouths agape. "Oh, criminy," Santa said, shaking his head. "Christmas is doomed."

"Right-o, sir."

WRITER'S NOTES: CHAPTER 7

I like Soul-I really do! While I do not subscribe to gendering clothes as manly or womanly, that does not preclude me from imagining that his peers think that second headband he wears in the manga and the anime is conventionally gendered as feminine. And as a gut reaction, it does not look great on him: it is so thin in that mess of white hair, whereas his headbands with the wider band, especially the black one he wears in the moon battle, have such contrast in colors. Then again, I think it is adorable that, over the course of the manga, Soul starts to dress more like Maka, not just the Spartoi uniform but the black jacket he starts wearing. The headband stuff was a topic of conversation before on my Tumblr at user name soul-dwelling: /post/66918886381

The headcanon that Maka is the one to buy Soul's headbands is inspired by a piece of fan art from PixIv that I cannot re-find: it featured every gift that Maka got Soul for his birthday and other days, and each year it was a thin headband in a different color. And if I could get around to writing some Year 1 stories, my own headcanon is that she also bought him that first headband he wears in the manga.

I came from a family—and I know other families for which this is the same—where lottery tickets were a stocking stuffer. Now I shall enjoy headcanon that Spirit more than once did the same, exacerbating the characterization Maka has made of her father—and hence why she is so disappointed in herself now, just imagining that she really is her father's daughter.

The Brooklyn Eagle was a real paper-so, I'm just shoving nineteenth-century allusions into this story.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Maka spun the now empty glass along the table. "One more, please."

"I think you've had enough."

"I'll tell you when I've had enough, Tsubaki!" As her friend stared wide-eyed, Maka became more demurred. "Now please, serve me."

The weapon rolled her eyes. "It's not even alcoholic cider-but really, I think that stuff will rot your teeth at this rate."

"I'd deserve it," Maka said, her chin pressed against the kitchen table.

"Now, now, no more self-pity." Tsubaki lifted Maka up under her arms, having her stand again. "Get your mind off of gift planning, and put your mind onto something else." She smiled. "Would you like to help me make gingerbread cookies?"

Maka grumbled.

"Good-I'll get the cookie sheet." She pointed onto the cookbook she left on the table. "You grab the ingredients listed on this page. If you need more, they are in the pantry in the room next door."

As Tsubaki removed their empty glasses from the table to the sink, Maka slumped her shoulders, held the cookbook by half of its pages-just letting it stay open as she dragged it and her feet into the pantry, not caring about either its spine or her own. She opened the door, flipped the light switch-and was greeted to perfectly arranged bins of ingredients, each labeled in clean, big, and black letters, alphabetized and then organized by size and even calorie count. After a moment, she chuckled despite herself, happy that at least Kid's penchant for order made it easier to organize.

Maka cradled the book on her arm, reading each ingredient as she removed its container from the shelf. "Baking soda, molasses, ginger, cinnamon, brown sugar. Wait, I don't see any brown sugar. Hmm...A, B, C...Oh!" She sprinted down the other end of the pantry. "S-sugar, brown! Typical, Kid!" She took as many ingredients as she could in her arms, and walked back towards the entrance-until she saw a bottle of hot sauce on one shelf. Getting a wicked grin, Maka snatched it, too, and returned to the kitchen, depositing the canisters onto the table-but keeping the hot sauce in her pocket.

Tsubaki was waiting for her, opening another bag of flour from using the remainder of the previous bag for her earlier cooking.

Maka risked a glance at Tsubaki. "Okay, so if I suck at gift-giving-"

"You do not suck-stop that," Tsubaki said with a smile.

"What have you done when you couldn't brainstorm a gift for someone?"

Tsubaki did not meet her eyes, drawing the returned cookbook to her to start measuring ingredients.

"Such as for Black Star, maybe?"

Tsubaki sighed, gruffly. "Maka."

"Sorry! I just...Well, he can't be easy to shop for."

"Based on how many pieces of furniture he breaks in a year, not really."

"His bed again?"

"I tell him to stop bouncing on it," Tsubaki said, as she tossed down some measured flour into the bowl, sending its dust flying into the air. "But no matter how many times he bashes his head on the ceiling, he keeps breaking the bedsprings!"

Maka backed away, beginning to regret bringing up the topic. "Any...non-furniture gifts you have gotten him?"

"A necktie," Tsubaki muttered, tossing more ingredients haphazardly into the mixing bowl.

"And you mock me for buying my partner girly headbands?"

Maka met Tsubaki's glare, totally not regretting the opportunity for her remark. Tsubaki could not maintain her stare, as she broke out laughing at how superior Maka looked. "Okay, fair point," she said, holding up her hands.

As Tsubaki turned her back to get a smaller measurement cup, Maka glanced into the mixing bowl, removed the hot sauce from her pocket, and poured a bit of it into the bowl. She took the mixing spoon and quickly stirred a bit of the contents. "Tsubaki, I'm adding the molasses!"

"Thanks!" she said, still hunting for the cup. "But really, Black Star is not that hard to shop for. And he really liked that necktie!"

"You ever get him to wear it?" Maka asked, as she finally added the molasses, took a whiff of the contents, and grimaced. Not spicy enough-she poured more in.

"At the formal dance last month, actually."

"Really?" Maka now looked up, not noticing how much hot sauce she was adding to the contents. "I thought Nygus forced him to wear it."

"You would be surprised how amenable Black Star can be," Tsubaki said. As she turned, Maka hid the bottle behind her back, replacing its cap. "You just need to give him incentive."

"Such as?" Maka asked, interested in Tsubaki's gift-giving advice.

"I made it part of a larger gift, so he would be willing to try out all of them: I got him a collection of neckties."

Maka's eyes widened. "Is that why-?"

"Yes: that ugly light-up snowman tie he wore last Christmas was one of those gifts!"

Maka was stunned. "That's how you got him to wear a suit to dinner?!"

"See? If you give Black Star a reason to think something will be fun and allow him to standout, he'll listen." She studied the mixing bowl. "Maka, I think you added too much molasses."

"Silly me!" Maka said with a wide smile. "I guess we can add some more flour and just double the ingredients, right?"

Tsubaki returned her smile: "Might as well-more for us until the others return!" She started to stir the contents. "Anyway, I wanted Black Star to dress up better than he had at other occasions, so I purchased nine different ties-all of them really tacky."

"Like that one with the neon colored stars on it?"

"And the one with jack o'lanterns."

"And that one with superheroes on it?"

"Exactly! And eventually when the fancy party came around, the only one he had not yet tried was the tenth tie I snuck in: an attractive, crimson silk tie." Her eyes softened as she kept stirring. "He looked rather handsome in it, didn't he?"

Maka returned her smile. "That's one way to get him into a monkey suit."

She chuckled. "That's what he called it, too!"

They then heard a crash behind them, as Patty kicked opened the door to the kitchen and entered. "I knew I smelled ginger! Tsubaki, can I lick the bowl?!"

"Oh, I don't know, Patty," Tsubaki began, concerned. "Maka has been helping me, and I thought-"

"No!" Maka put up both hands. Both weapons looked at her. "Um, what I mean is, is that...It's the holidays! Patty really should lick it." She took the spoon from Tsubaki, and handed it to Patty. "Merry Christmas!"

"Thanks, pigtails!" Patty said, clutching the spoon.

Tsubaki studied Maka, and smiled. She had feared that the gift-giving fiasco was troubling her friend, but was surprised to see how well she was getting it off her mind by focusing on improving someone else's life. Tsubaki always admired Maka for her dedication to others, because she thought-

"Fuck!"

Tsubaki left her reverie, as she saw Patty cover her hands over her mouth. "Are you alright?"

Patty shook her head, and dashed to the sink. Tsubaki looked down at the mixing bowl-had her preparations made her friend ill? "Patty! Don't vomit into the sink!"

"I'm not, god damn it!" she shouted, as she ran water. Then Patty shoved her head under the stream, desperately trying to suck up water like drinking from a fountain.

Tsubaki cringed. "Is my cooking so bad before I even start?" she said, her eyes softening in worry.

Then she heard giggles, as Maka sauntered over to the fridge. "Here, Patty-" she tossed a carton of milk at her. "That stuff will help with hot sauce gingerbread dough more."

Patty caught the carton, then after staring at it, glared at Maka. She kept her eyes on her, as she ripped-not pinched, ripped-half the carton's top off, and still stared at her enemy as she guzzled the drink.

"Maka!" Tsubaki lectured her. "That was awful!"

"Hmm," Maka said, shrugging. "Must have been the ginger-it packs a punch."

She barely caught the spoon as it was tossed to her. "You can make the next batch, then!" Tsubaki shouted, struggling to look with disapproval and not laugh at Patty's misfortune.

"Fine, fine," Maka said. "But it'll still be a bit spicy, just like Mama used to-"

She collided with the floor, the empty carton of milk beaning her in the head.

"Patty!" Tsubaki chided her. "Can we have one Christmas Eve without battery?!"

"I don't want any more spice than I am having right now!" Patty screamed, milk drooling from her numb mouth and marking a path onto the floor as she paced out the room and slammed the door.

Maka lifted herself up, clutching her head. "Oh, I need so much ice now." She looked at Tsubaki. "What did she mean by 'enough spice'? Did you feed her something spicy, too?"

Tsubaki avoided eye contact, blushing a bit. "Oh, you know Patty-she just says things!" She forced a laugh, as Maka continued to study her while procuring a plastic bag to stuff with ice for her aching skull. No wonder Black Star hesitated to mock Patty, Maka thought: how could a cheap cardboard carton hurt that badly?

o-o-o

This was quite a pickle, he thought.

Kid had one foot placed firmly into the subway car, and one placed still on the platform. On the one hand, the subway car to the 8 train looked filthy: he was pretty sure those moldy remains of a hamburger just winked at him. On the other hand, should he enter the car, at least he would get away from that dreadful noise the saxophonist dressed in the blue fur outfit was playing.

"In or out, jackass!"

Kid looked down the platform at the conductor. "My apologies, but I really am at a crossroads!"

"You'll be cut in half if you don't get on or off!"

"Is that a promise?" Kid said, a hopeful smile forming on his face.

The can of soda hit against his temple. He stared at the passenger seated across from him: she had her nose buried in a book, a scarf covering her face to obscure him from reading her expression. With that action, Kid stood up straighter, marched onto the subway, if only to give this person a piece of his mind. The doors shut behind him, and the train took off almost instantly. Kid felt himself lean back, yet with perfect reaper balance, was able to re-achieve equilibrium and stay on both feet.

"Pardon me," he said to the woman seated across from him.

Gosh, her headphones are certainly noisy, he thought-even without his enhanced hearing, he here every syllable of the simplistic lyrics emanating from the apparatus.

"Pardon me!" he shouted.

"Piss off," the woman said, keeping her attention to her book.

"I simply wanted to ask-"

"Shut up down there!" cried another passenger seated further down the car.

"Yes, thank you," Kid said, ignoring him. "I wanted to ask," he continued to yell, "why it is that you threw your soda can at me! It was quite rude of you to do-"

She pelted another one at him.

"Really, this is too much! I expect better behavior from people in this city! I have been very accommodating with you, and I-"

Then he noticed her nose ring. It was only in one nostril.

"Alright, then," he said, a sadistic smile forming on his face as his hand reached towards her. "How about I remove that asymmetrical monstrosity by ripping that ring off you—"

She wrapped her fingers around her wrist. Next thing he knew, he was seeing the world upside. He did not understand how she was able to send him flying to the end of that car, as he landed on his head. The man at the other end of the subway car moved his feet back a bit before Kid's landing, giving him the space to rest there.

The woman removed her headphones. "N.O.T. graduate, class of 2000. Try to touch me again, and I'll send you running home crying to your daddy." She replaced the headphones, and continued reading.

Kid sighed. He was coming to realize why, in the time since retrieving his weapons from this city, he so rarely ever returned to New York.

o-o-o

"Hello there, kiddies!" Lord Death exclaimed. Since Kid had departed, the father had felt bad about letting his only Death Scythe on duty carry her bet alone-so he put on foam antlers with blinking lights strewn around them. The sight did not faze Soul and Liz—actually, Lord Death was rather under-decorated based on the season, especially compared to the more surprisingly adorned sight of Azusa standing beside him.

"Yes, welcome." The Death Scythe for East Asia had her arms crossed to hide the ugly sweater she was wearing, yet she could do little to hide the blinking red nose glued to her face.

"Uh, hi, Death Scythe Yumi," Liz began. "Why are you—"

"I lost a bet. Leave it at that."

"Spirit had to tackle the Christmas Day emergency missions," Lord Death whispered, holding up a foam hand over his non-existent mouth, "but he managed to get back at Azusa for taking his space by—"

"Move on!" the irate Death Scythe shouted. The three others in the room stood straighter, hands to their sides.

"Right," Soul said, clearing his throat. "Lord Death, I too request a change to my Christmas Eve assignment."

Lord Death and Azusa looked at each other, her nose still blinking as she spoke: "Soul, new Death Scythes generally have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. It is a tradition that we try to enforce at the Death Weapon Meister Academy, in order to adjust new recruits slowly into their more active roles before the inevitable separation of them from their meisters."

"Oh, nice job breaking that to him gently, Zu-zu," Lord Death muttered, as he glanced away from her glare.

"I understand, Death Scythe." Liz was surprised to hear how formal Soul spoke to Azusa. "But I make this request explicitly on behalf of my meister."

"Who, me?"

"No, Lord Death," Liz interrupted, stepping forward. "We understand that Kami Albarn is still conducting black op missions, her most recent coordinates being somewhere around Mexico City."

"And how would you know that?" Azusa said, her eyes narrowing at Liz.

"Just….something I read," Liz said scratching her cheek with her middle finger.

"Why not send another Death Scythe to sub in?" Soul asked. "What about Tezca?"

"It's…complicated," Lord Death said, rubbing the back of his head.

"In any case," Azusa continued, her glasses shining light into Liz's eyes as she opened her folder to consult her notes, "my most recent update from Agent Albarn confirmed she is maintaining radio silence in order to infiltrate the site."

"Which would be?" Liz said, holding a hand over her eyes to block the sheen.

"That information is class—"

"Teotihuacán."

All turned to Soul.

"What?" Soul smirked at Azusa. "Badass secret agent in Mexico City? Probably near the Avenue of the Dead, just a few miles away in Teotihuacan?"

"Have you been 'reading' as well, Soul?" Azusa interrogated him.

"No-just anytime 'death' is in the title, it seems kind of obvious, if cliché."

Azusa slammed her folder shut in one hand, as she marched to her fellow Death Scythe, her tallness allowing her to stare down at her shorter counterpart. "Black ops missions forbid interference from DWMA students, Death Scythes or not. Furthermore, should you interfere, by our rules you will be stripped of every last soul you acquired, including that of the Witch Arachne, and I will personally see you drummed out of this Academy. Do I make myself clear?"

Despite the sweat building on his forehead, Soul maintained his smirk. "All of that would have been clearer if not for the blinking red nose," he said, poking at it. Azusa slapped his hand away.

"Well, that was fun," Liz said, having walked over to Lord Death, leaning an elbow on his side. "Hey, boss man? Mind if me and Soul saunter down Mexico way to lend Maka's mama a hand?"

"No prob," Lord Death said, shrugging. He held up a foam hand to high five Liz as she walked down the platform, took Soul by his arm, and tipped her hat to Azusa.

"Oh, hold up!" Soul said, as he reached behind him, snatching the folder out of Azusa's hand.

"And Merry Christmas!"

"You too, Death Scythe!" Lord Death said, waving. A dumbfounded Azusa stared down the hallway, then turned to stare down the Grim Reaper himself.

"Could you please take protocols more seriously?"

"Why should I?" Lord Death sneered, crossing his arms. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't exactly have the most reliable Death Scythes around at this time of year."

Azusa's mouth hung open. "What?! Compared to the others at your immediate disposal"—she started counting on her fingers—"one pervert, one cosplayer, and one who periodically smashes toilets—"

"I've been meaning to ask about that, by the way, concerning the prohibitively high plumber costs we have had—"

"Quiet!" Lord Death backed up. "And you are going to imply _I_ am not reliable, while you send Evans to screw up a mission?!"

Lord Death simply shrugged. "Well, you haven't done the best job decorating the Chamber for the holiday season."

"That is not in my job description!"

"I believe it is, somewhere between completing all paperwork in triplicate and—"

She took a step forward, and Lord Death again backed away a bit more. "Why did you allow them to go?!"

Lord Death stopped tilting backwards, and leaned forward. "Because it's Christmas. If you expect any better answer than that, then this conversation will just become circular."

Azusa inhaled deeply, and while determined that the argument indeed would persist without advancing, still continued to glare at Lord Death, who began to glance periodically at his wristwatch, wondering how much longer before he himself could just head home already.

Then a thought came upon her.

"Well," she said, marching back to her monitors, "if one Death Scythe is going to break protocol, then two more violating procedure cannot be any worse."

"Ooh, Azusa," Lord Death said, placing a hand over where his mouth would be. "You naughty little rule-breaker, you!"

Upon receiving her death stare, he stood straight again, rotated around, and slinked back to the eggnog he left at his coffee table. Azusa looked to the monitor-and shut it off. What was left was a reflective surface. She exhaled onto the mirror, and wrote out "60,000." She said aloud, "Roku-man." She paused, and smiled despite herself, as she then said aloud, "Hmm, ro-kuma. Apt number for him, then."

The mirror shone, before dissolving into blackness. Azusa studied the screen, having anticipated that it would be more likely to hear her colleague than to see him.

She heard grunts.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting it!" a voice called out. "Jeez, stop waving the mirror around-it's not like I'm not the only one here to pick it up!"

Grunts persisted, with more hostility.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?!"

"Happy to hear your voice," Azusa began, "even if I can't see you."

The noises ceased.

"Oh! Azusa! Feliz Navidad, pal! What's up?"

"Kami is around Mexico City, and now two academy students have followed her without permission to assist in a three-star black ops assignment. I am sorry to ask this, given your condition right now, but are you-"

"Hey, I'm not too far from there! Let me pay off Enrique's bar tab, and I'll-"

"You're drinking on the job?!"

"What? It's not like I can exactly imbibe right now. Think of me as my meister's designated driver."

Azusa gave a grunt of disapproval.

"Just tell me the location, and I'm out!"

Azusa narrowed her eyes. "Teotihuacán, the Avenue of the Dead."

Silence persisted.

"Cool! One ass-kicking Christmas then!"

She heard something crash in the background.

"What now?" she bemoaned.

"Hey, I said I was having an ass-kicking Christmas, right? Can't have one without a bar brawl! Oh, Enrique's giving that biker guy a wedgie! Sorry you can't see this, Azusa, but trust me, I'll send you some snapshots. Death Scythe, out!"

The mirror shone bright again, then dissolved back into its monitor functions capturing surveillance footage. Azusa pinched the bridge of her nose, really hoping that sending another Death Scythe would not compromise Kami's mission further.

o-o-o

"I thought Sid's snow digging skills would pay off-" Black Star dodged another reindeer back-kick. "I just have a bad sense of direction!"

"Funny! Kid didn't tell us that!" Rupert shouted.

"Santa, see, this is why you need to take me off the naughty list!" Black Star did a back flip, flying through the air, as two reindeer came at him, instead bashing their heads into each other and entangling their antlers into each other's. "Then you could give me a compass like you did Kid!"

"Ho, Black Star," Santa said, ever jovial even when combating his own reindeer-his mind-controlled friends-with the threat of an early demise hanging over him. "It was not that type of compass, my friend."

"Whatever," Black Star continued, backing away as more reindeer-Vixen? Nixon? He could never keep track of those names-snorted, then stampeded at him. "When I'm done"-he slid across the snow, stretched out his arms, knocking all eight legs and their holders to the ground, then uprighted himself and turned to re-face the red-coated jolly man-"I'll have worked off three lifetimes of naughty list stardom!"

"That's admirable though misplaced spirit!" Santa said, punching his fist into the air-and sending a flying reindeer crashing to the ground, colliding at the feet of the still seated black cloaked figure.

Santa met the shining red eye of that man. "Ya-ho-ho-ho!" the tall, muscular, and portly man uttered. "I welcome you back, my friend, to my workshop!"

The black cloaked man arose, a clattering sound greeting his three opponents' ears. Rupert narrowed his eyes, Black Star remained unimpressed, and all Santa would say was, "Ho! It sounds like you need more milk and cookies-poor calcium, eh?"

"Papa…" the hooded figure uttered.

"Ho, my child," Santa said, marching forward. "But I'm afraid that is my chair in which you sit. I mean, look at the legs of it, for Pete's sake! The snow will cause all sorts of water damage, my jiminy. Now, let's get this chair back to my workshop, my dear, and we'll fix it up there. What do you say?"

Santa held out his hands to the cloaked figure.

The cloaked figure rammed a hand through his chest.

"Santa!" Black Star shrieked. He was already within inches of the cloaked figure, as his foot connected with his head, knocking him back-but not dragging back Santa at all. In fact, Santa was so heavy, that he stayed in place-and, really, looked hardly impressed with the injury, poking at the offending appendage still lodged within his torso. It was the cloaked person's arm-all bones. A bony arm with a bony hand. No, not even a hand: it was a cloven hoof.

Black Star looked disgusted, seeing a bit of blood dripping out of Santa's wound and onto the pure snow. He turned his attention to the one-armed cloaked figure.

Black Star smirked. "Looks like you could use a hand, buddy. And probably a fashion statement."

The cloaked figure shrieked in pain, clutching the bony socket from which his arm had been torn.

"I mean, you steal Lord Death's cloak? Seriously?" Black Star paced around the figure, as the figure walked around him. "But then wear some dead reindeer's antlers?" The cloaked figure groaned particularly at that remark. "And the one red eye? Puh-lease! You think you're a cyclops now? Buddy, I know some one-eyed people, and you aren't half the man they are. Hell, the one I know isn't even a man!"

Black Star kept an eye on Santa as he circled his opponent, Rupert tending to Santa, who waved him off. Santa even tore the arm out of his chest-exposing a hole through his chest.

"Oh, dear," Santa whispered. "Rupert, procure the first aid! Again!"

"Y-yes, sir!" The usually unflappable Rupert snatched his small box from his coat jacket, and removed one bandage: one candy-cane decorated bandage. He placed it around one edge of the wound, careful not to touch the wound.

"Ho, thank you, Rupert," Santa said, falling to one knee. Rupert did his best to catch him with his arm around his shoulder. "Would you kiss my boo-boo?"

"Hell no!" Rupert screamed.

"Ah, give him a kiss-kiss!" Black Star mocked. If Santa was still standing after that, he figured he could joke around. Still, he was curious. While keeping his eye on his opponent-getting annoyed at how long the chance for combat was taking-he asked: "So, how you still standing, Santa?"

"The stuff of magic, my friend," Santa replied. "And a bit of peppermint, too."

Black Star paused, as he and the cloaked figure both elicited a questioning grunt of "Huh?"

Santa held up a hand, indicating that he wanted them to watch. With each inhale, the soft laughter of children was heard. Everyone but Santa-even the hypnotized reindeer-searched around the tundra, yet could see nothing. Black Star then traced the sound: "It's...coming from that big honking hole in your stomach?"

"Ho…" Santa tried to laugh, grimacing from the pain.

Then something amazing happened: a small head poked out from the wound.

"What the…" Black Star muttered.

The little one pulled itself upward, its hands-well, more just arms, with rounded ends-and caked overalls. Caked on, because they were made of frosting, held up by gumdrop buttons. And rounded hands because they were made of gingerbread.

Rupert hated this part.

It was a gingerbread man. And the little man reached down a hand to help up another one-a girl, identified by her licorice pigtails. And she helped another person up, and he another, and so on.

Black Star stared in disbelief, feeling his stomach turning over. Each gingerbread man had a peppermint candy cane in hand, which it snapped in half.

The cloaked figure shook his head: God, was he sick of seeing this, even all these years later.

From each peppermint candy cane poured out sawdust, which filled the hole. With each inhale, the dust was lent form: first, into a skeletal structure, of bare but powdery bones appearing inside the wound. Then nerves formed. And then muscle. Then skin. Finally, the remnants of his red cloak.

Rupert grimaced: all these years later with this partner of his, he still was disgusted by the sight.

"Ho!" Santa cried, stretching back his back, as gingerbread men crawled from the previous wound and down his back, belly, and legs, eliciting more giggles from the jolly old elf. "Thanks, friends!"

"Merry Christmas, Santa!" shouted the gingerbread men, as they took off in every direction, away from this scene of saving their friend, to parts unknown.

Everyone but a jovial Santa stared in disbelief.

"Okay," Black Star asked. "Just...what the fuck was that?!"

"Black Star," Santa began.

"No! Like, what the actual fuck?! Did I just see gingerbread men-"

"Yes."  
"Repair you?!"

"Yes."

Black Star inhaled and exhaled furiously. "Gah! And I thought Black Blood was creepy! I mean, you aren't going to have a gingerbread man grow out of your back and lift up girls' skirts, are you?!"

"Not since the '60s," Santa said, resuming his boisterous chuckling. "God, LSD is a hell of a drug."

Black Star felt his eye twitching. "What...what the hell have I gotten myself into?"

Rupert could not help but laugh, happy that something broke the loudmouth ninja. Then he stopped. "Black Star, look out!"

Black Star's eyes widened, as he flipped up, avoiding a similar chest-buster attack from the one-armed cloaked figure."

"Black Star!" Rupert shouted, tossing the cloaked figure's still bloody-or sawdusty?-arm to the ninja.

With it, Black Star blocked each and every blow from the figure's remaining arm.

"Rule of my academy, buddy!" Black Star shouted, flipping around the figure, sweeping a kick under his legs and knocking him to the ground. "Anything can be a weapon!"

The figure pulled back his arm and struck at Black Star-who dodged it, and took the dismembered arm, and with its index and middle skeletal fingers poked the figure in its eyes.

"Well, in one eye, at least!" Black Star said. "Now you have gone from Cyclops to Oedipus!"

"Ho! Good allusion, Black Star!"

"Thanks! I do some reading, you know!"

With that distraction, the figure knocked Black Star down, as the ninja's grip on the arm loosened, letting it fall to the snow. The righted himself, while the cloaked figure reached for the arm, re-attaching it to his torso.

"Papa…" the figure again croaked.

Black Star finally wised up. "Dude, this guy's your son?"

"No, Black Star, no more than any other child." He giggled. "I have the paternity tests to prove it, believe me!"

Black Star raised an eyebrow. "Huh. I got a friend whose dad would love you, man."

"No, Black Star. I am Father Christmas! This monster is just mocking my name!"

"You laugh, Papa," the figure again uttered. "You turned me away…"

"You are nothing more than a corporatist shill!" Santa suspended any attempt at jollity, his voice becoming a guttural shout of barely comprehensible syllables. "You spoiled child! I cursed the day Bobby May created you!"

The figure froze. "You deny me?"

"You were never one of my reindeer!"

Black Star's eyes widened. "What?! That red-eyed bastard is a reindeer?!"

The figure removed its hood. His head was primarily a skull, bits of skin and muscle still attached to its skull, both of its eyes still in their sockets but diseased with pus and cuts. The antlers were not worn on top of his hood, as Black Star had initially thought: they were a part of his head. And with those red eyes staring at his three enemies, so too was pointed at them a blinking red nose.

"Whoa," Black Star whispered. "Is that...Rudolph?"

The reindeer sneered. "May I play?"

o-o-o

WRITER'S NOTES: CHAPTER 8

As another holiday trope, I borrowed a scene from the _Garfield_ Christmas special in which the grandmother adds hot sauce to the meal. I imagine Maka likes some spice to her food-gives her something to talk about with Ragnarok regarding spicy drinks.

You know that _Mystery Science Theater 3000_ song, "A Patrick Swayze Christmas"? That was going through my mind when writing this fic. While I include many traditional holiday tropes-people unable to get the proper gifts for each other, decorating the house, embarrassing Christmas outfits-I also wanted an ass-kicking Christmas, something more akin to stories where Christmas is in the background, like in _Die Hard _or _Iron Man 3_. (The certain Death Scythe who Azusa calls echoes my sentiment. Any idea who he is? The "kuma" remark was my poor attempt punning based on rudimentary comprehension of Japanese-and after the pun inherent to "42-42-564," I anticipate that some meisters and weapons' mirror phone numbers have to have some pun inherent to them.)

Then again, I also wanted something that would have a darker re-imagining of the Christmas season. After seeing the mess that is _Sword Art Online_ and being deprived of an epic fight between Kirito and Zombie Santa, I needed something to correct that pitiful series. As Rudolph is the product of a commercial company making up a new reindeer, I decided he would be a suitable villain against Santa. Plus I have watched the _Thor_ films too many times, so now Santa is going full on Odin, what with the guttural yelling that consists of barks and grunts rather than actual words—and then, after I made these plans, I find someone already changed Odin into Santa and Loki in Rudolph, so once again, there is nothing that hasn't been done before thanks to the Internet. :D

I'm trying to wrap up the story as quickly before Christmas-most of the later chapters are fully written, but I am cheating a bit to get to the end of the story, hence why the dues ex machina of magic tools is used to explain why Soul and Liz arrived so quickly in Teotihuacán while Black Star has barely gotten through his fight against Rudolph. Then again, the manga has some loose play with how these characters travel such distances so quickly-such as Spirit and Stein to Italy to save Maka and Soul from Crona-but this is the second fic after the Thanksgiving one in which I use magic automotive tools as an excuse, so I can't abuse that cheap trick so often.

I toyed with adding another line for the one man on the subway with Kid, given the number of death threats I have received from commuters on the New York City subway system-but I couldn't figure out an instance, so instead a N.O.T. alumnus kicks Kid's ass. Yes, he should have been able to handle himself in the fight, and I am ignoring logic for the sake of humor. If I were to offer a realistic justification, however, Kid is having a troubling night given the New York atmosphere, his focus on his gift for Liz and Patty, and because, when someone does knock some sense into him, he's not going to claim someone's soul just because she is asymmetrical...I mean, I hope he wouldn't…

Standing in the middle of the subway, not getting on or off, is something I took from the comedian Kent Jones, formerly of _The Daily Show_ and _The Rachel Maddow Show_-he played a country hick on a radio program I used to listen to, and the character did the same thing.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

"Disgusting!" She spit into the dirt.

"See, this is why I asked you to be quiet on the way here—less talk, less bugs in the mouth."

"You yelled for me to shut up at least 12 times!"

"Don't exaggerate—I gave you two 'Shut up's,' three 'Shut the hell up's,' one 'Stuff it,' and one 'Fuck you.'"

She spit on his shoe.

"Fuck you—there, two, a happy twin to the first one."

She spit onto his other shoe. "There, symmetrical!" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, as Soul scratched the top of his shoes on the dirt and removed a flashlight from his autumn jacket.

While it was not exactly wintery around Teotihuacán, the night air was still chilly. He was impressed with the time that it took them to get from Death City to Mexico City, and now here at Teotihuacán-the wonders of a few magic tools that could do when he took those the DWMA automotive courses. Of course, he could have had Lord Death assign someone to refurbish his motorcycle for swift travel-but like hell he would let anyone touch Baby.

He opened the compartment behind his motorcycle's back seat, sifting through its contents for remaining supplies to get to their destination.

According to Azusa's report-which he and Liz skimmed during the number of rest stops they took, some of them that Soul was willing to admit were necessary for a coffee break, others he thought tedious, as he mocked Liz's bathroom breaks, at least until she threaten to stuff him down a toilet-they could only drive up within viewing distance of the Avenue of the Dead, then would have to walk so as to stay as quiet as possible.

Yeah, us being quiet, Soul thought, as he rolled his eyes: amazing if Liz could ever quiet down. Kid must have about as much patience as Tsubaki did to put up with such a chatterbox.

" 'Soul, slow down!'" he started to imitate Liz in a falsetto. " 'Soul, where's your helmet? Soul, where's my helmet? Soul, turn on the radio. Soul, I need a bathroom.'" He glanced back at her. "You know, on these trips Maka just rolls with it, cool under pressure, not freaking out over every little want."

"Maka also knows how to keep her weapon exactly where she wants him, Evans." He frowned—he really hoped this wasn't going to become her nickname for him. "I could make sure to keep you in the place I want you to be until we finish this mission," she added, cracking her knuckles for emphasis.

Soul glanced away. Based on how more adept she was in hand-to-hand combat thanks to years of street fighting, Soul did not want to start a brawl—weapons' only training had been enough proof given the number of times Liz won their sparring matches, but only because she fought dirty—and, Soul surmised, because Sid and Nygus apparently enjoyed hearing his shrieks of agony.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"What was that?" she said, holding a hand up to her ear, as she leaned down to his. "I couldn't quite hear ya!"

"Sorry, alright! Jeez, can't you take an apology without milking it?"

"I'm used to getting what I want," she said with self-satisfaction, crossing her arms but wearing a friendlier smile. She glanced around the sky. "Nice night, though: cool air, stars above. Perfect time to kill some bad guys and bring your girlfriend home her mama."

She heard something heavy as it fell on his foot, a hoarse curse escaping his clenched teeth. "Funny," Soul replied, rubbing his foot where his Maglite had hit. "Here," he shouted, tossing something to her. She caught a pair of binoculars, as Soul put a pair of his own his own neck. "Make yourself useful and scope the surroundings."

Her smile becoming more authentically polite, Liz turned around and held them up to see the Avenue of the Dead below.

"Just don't fall down that hill while you got them on, okay?" Soul warned.

"Sure, sure," she replied. She took a few steps forward, anticipating the hill would cut off when she would feel her feet touch the edge. Besides, even if she went one foot over, it wasn't like she couldn't pull herself back: she was the personal weapon to Death the Kid—that kind of crucible already gave her perfect balance.

Looking through the binoculars, Liz studied the buildings comprising the Avenue of the Dead. Like the name itself, the place was dead: no one was present, no sound, nothing. "Huh." She sauntered past some dilapidated walls to get a better view of the valley below. "Those layers of each building, all stacked on top of each other-they kind of look like pyramids."

"They are."

She froze mid-step. She still was not at all close to the hill's edge. "What?"

"Pyramids. Those are pyramids," Soul said, reaching into his motorcycle's storage compartment for a compass to deposit in his jacket's pocket.

"They are what?"

"Pyramids," he grumbled. "What, you got bugs in your ears, too?"

"Pyramids?"

"No, cubes. Of course, pyramids-the Avenue of the Dead is a bunch of pyramids."

"P-p-p-p-"

"What are you, a sputtering motor? Yes, pyramids."

"Like mummies?!"

Soul sighed. "Not every pyramid has mummies."

She was already upon him before he realized it, her hands wrapped around his neck, as she shook him, furiously. "I didn't sign up for this!"

"Liz!" He gripped her shoulders. "I know what happened the last time you were in Egypt. It was not a cool scene, it sucked, but you got through it, and you destroyed an entire pyramid." He smiled. "That's pretty awesome, right?"

"A mummy licked me!"

Soul furrowed his brow. "And a cat molests me on a daily basis—been there, got the bookmarks to prove it."

Liz raised an eyebrow. "What, now _you_ are doing lame book puns?"

"There, see? You're back to normal!" He tore her hands off of him, and he removed his hands from her. "You just need to calm down, crack a few jokes, and see that everything will be FINE!"

At the last word, Soul's voice rose an octave, as he felt Liz's hand shifting through his pocket.

"I'm going home-give me your keys!"

He pushed her away. "Re-relax!" he said, his voice still cracking. He pushed her away, dusted himself off, pulled the compass from his pocket, and adjusted the binoculars around his neck. "This isn't Egypt. No pyramids in Mexico contain mummies."

"And how do you know this?" Liz said, leaning against a wall.

"You read enough art and architecture books, you pick up a few details," Soul said, his eyes moving from his compass to the binoculars. "For example, the pyramids include intricate tunnels underneath, some portions of the pyramids hardly excavated. And in those tunnels, we'll likely find Kami." He grimaced. "I hope still kicking, and so not cornered by serial killers or monsters." He smiled a bit. "I'd feel sorry if she didn't leave a few of those cretins for us to smash."

Hearing no reply from his simultaneously frightened and bored partner, he continued, without looking behind at her: "Furthermore, if you keep leaning on that wall like that, then the archaeologists will kill you before any mummy does."

Liz grumbled as she kicked off the wall—and heard part of it crumble.

"Case in point," Soul concluded as he marched forward down the hill, while Liz stuffed her hands in her pockets, hunched over, and followed, still grumbling. "Neither of us is great at sensing souls, so I suggest we start with the tunnel first." He shone his light to the side of the hill. "There is one of the entrances. We stand with each other the entire way, and we mark a path back." He removed a ball of yarn from his jacket. "This is the first fail-safe, and I have some caught as well to mark a path back to our entrance."

Liz was silent, staring daggers into the back of his head.

"We search every inch of the tunnels, as I doubt archaeologists will get pissy if we go through them-they have searched them enough. The pyramids themselves are next-that will be tricky, but I'm sure we'll get retroactive clearance later."

"Probably freaking mummies here, and you are worried about some museum hunting us-your priorities stink."

He closed his mouth, his lips barely visible. The sharp-toothed Death Scythe didn't bite at the bait.

"I swear, Soul Evans," she continued, as they approached the tunnel dug into the hill, "if I die because of some mummy, some ghost, some devil, all to drag your partner's mother kicking and screaming back to Death City, I will put you through a wall myself!"

The side of the hill exploded in with a flash of red light crashing out of the tunnel. Both weapons froze as they felt rubble explode against their faces, and a twitching, wrinkly corpse fall at their feet.

"Like that?" Soul test.

"Eh, yeah, kinda something like that," Liz replied.

"You can let go of my arm now."

"Sorry!" she said, releasing her grip.

Liz then looked at the creature.

"Soul? How would you describe the skin of that thing?"

He studied it. Then his eyes widened in realization. "I'd...say he needed moisturizer?"

"Try again, you bastard," Liz said, trying to focus on her anger more than the fear crippling her.

"At least this guy doesn't have any bandages on?" He attempted a pathetic smile.

"So you admit it is a mummy!"

Soul backed up. "I don't understand! Mummies aren't in Mexican pyramids!"

Another explosion came from the hill, this one behind them, as another corpse-a mummy-laid twitching on the ground, before he stiffened, evidently its life-after life?-coming to an end. Liz and Soul stopped panicking and darted to the hole, tentatively leaning forward to look in. The view was opened upon runes carved into the tunnel walls, candles left along the dusty, stony floor, and in the center stood a woman, breathing heavily, as she pulled back the fist that sent the corpse flying. Blood dripped off of numerous gashes along her arms, her pants a bit scuffed but hardly that damaged, and surprisingly her steel-toed black and white boots immaculate-so noticed Liz on that last point. Then Liz froze upon seeing the blood smeared across the woman's face-and more of it dripping off the machete in her hand.

"I could sense you two miles away from here," she began. "Should have figured my darling Maka would come running to see me."

Liz glared. Soul gave a friendly smile as he said, "Hey there, Kami."

"Soul!" she said with a bright smile. Then upon seeing his colleague, and not seeing the one she expected, Kami Albarn looked up in shock. "Oh." She sneered. "Hey, there, Pistol."

o-o-o

WRITER'S NOTES: CHAPTER 9

This is a shorter chapter, to let the reunion of Soul and Liz with Kami stand on its own. I enjoy how the character has come out, and she continues to blend together these traditional images of parental care with snarky, foul-mouthed ass-kicking goodness.

Next Chapter: Smut!


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Kid inhaled, and assumed the best demeanor that he could. He practiced his lines again. "Hello, is Mr. Cruz home? Hello, I am Death the Kid. Hello, I am here to ask about a report from four years ago. Hello, is Mr. Cruz home?"

Kid climbed the stairs to the fifth floor of Diablo Dells in the West Village, then tracked the doors until he reached Apartment 504. He held out his fist, and lightly tapped on the door.

Then he remembered it was already about 3:00 AM already. He knocked harder.

"Quiet!" a curt whisper came behind the door. "We got kids!"

"Is Jeffrey Cruz there?"

The door opened a bit, the chain blocking any additional entrance. "Who asks?"

Kid had already removed his wallet to retrieve his identification. "Lord Death's son, Death the Kid. I was hoping to-"

"The one who adopted the Thompsons Sisters?!"

"Well, I wouldn't say adopt, but I-"  
SLAM!

Kid was afraid of this. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Onto Plan B.

o-o-o

"Kami!" Soul exclaimed. Then he glanced at the rotten creatures now attracting flies in the dusty dirt under the smiling moon above. "Huh. Your taste in boyfriends has improved."

"Good to see you, too," she replied, slugging him playfully in the arm. "Ah, Pistol!" she said, gripping Liz in a bearhug. "Haven't seen you in a while!"

Liz frowned. She was still bitter towards Maka's mother, based on their first encounter: thanks to Kami's ability to hide her soul when undercover, Kid had mistaken the ability as soul protect, hence Kami, then a masked, undercover DWMA operative, as a witch. Even upon learning the truth months later upon proper introductions, Liz had never quite forgiven Kami for the injuries she dealt to her—or to her sister. And the current twisting of her innards by this Amazon's toned arms was not helping. "The feeling isn't mutual."

Kami blinked in honest surprise. "Really? You okay, dear?" She then glared at Soul. "Why are you dragging your friends along if they ain't feeling well, you cad?!"

Soul backed up. Damn if she wasn't his meister's mother, after all. "Liz is fine! Liz, tell her you're fine!"

How pathetic, Liz thought, rolling her eyes. "I'm fine." She knocked an offended Kami's hands away, as she marched towards the present Death Scythe. "It's just that something has been on my mind. Hmm, what was it," she began, leaning her arm against the top of Soul's head. Kami smirked, crossing her arms: this was going to get good.

"Oh yeah!" Liz remember, as she wrapped her hands around Soul's shirt. "You said there—were—no—mummies—here!" Liz screamed, shaking Soul with each pause for emphasis.

"That's stupid," Kami said, spying behind the barrier to better estimate the number of remaining cadavers. Eight, she thought—the curse of having the Mini Reaper's partner here. "Everyone knows about the famous Mummies of Guanajuato."

"Not Mr. Art Student here!"

Kami raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were a pianist."

"Off-topic," Soul said, tearing Liz's hands off his shirt. "And the nearest mummies are in Guanajuato, about four hours away, driving."

"Now you're a geographer?!"

"Shut up, Liz!" He turned back to Kami. "How do mummies get from one place to another?"

Kami thumbed behind her back. "They drove."

Soul looked around her, and was greeted with the site of a yellow Volkswagen Beetle crashed into the tunnel's wall, its hood crushed and its roof torn off.

"Huh," he said. "They made it a convertible."

Kami shrugged. "Only way to fit that many mummies into their clown car."

"So, is that where the tunnel hole came from?" Liz asked, despite herself, of Kami.

"Probably. The real kicker is that the guys I've been looking for since getting this assignment to Mexico City?"

"Yeah," Soul started, "Maka told me about them-"

"She's been," Kami paused, struggling to find the correct word, "snooping-No! Um, tracking me?"

"Actually, neither of us knew you had this assignment," Soul continued. "But Maka did see the reports of those three guys-um, Bradbury, Herzog, and El Santo, right?"

Kami raised an eyebrow on that last name, as she put her fist to her chin, tapping her machete on the tunnel floor as she meditated.

"Maka wanted to get assigned that mission." Soul looked to Liz, and seeing her realization, continued: "She had hoped for it so she could run into you."

"Hmm, interesting," Kami said.

Liz now felt her teeth grinding against each other. " 'Interesting'? That's what you have to say about your daughter wanting to see y-?!"

"Shh!" Kami cut her off. "Soul, I thought the third guy was called 'Santa.'"

Soul squinted at her and smirked. "That's dumb. What, you got Christmas on the brain that much that you misread the report?"

Kami cringed. "Looks like it, kid. Ug, I'm so stupid!" she said, smacking her forehead. "That explains why that third stooge was dressed like that!"

"Wait, what third stooge?" Liz then stiffened. "You mean there is a third mummy?!"

"No, Pistol, don't be silly!" Kami said, with maternal affection.

Then six blasts sounded off, rubble exploding out of the tunnel, thrusting the Volkswagen out of its resting place as it flipped upward. Kami did not move, as the car came within an inch of her head but made a perfect arch over her, only a bit of pebble and dust landing on her head and shoulders.

Too bad the car's interior-its roof having been torn off earlier-was now heading for Soul. His reaction time was too slow, but Liz, having dealt with a few car crashes and subway accidents before, wrapped her arms around him, and tackled him out of the way, as the vehicle slid across the tunnel and came to a stop when it reached the other side of the tunnel.

Liz breathed heavily, as she laid stomach down on the dusty floor, Soul assuming the same position but with his hands covering his head. "You okay?" she asked.

"Super," he replied. Then he jerked up. "Kami!"

"All fine here!" the meister shouted, waving her machete above her as she waved, blood still dripping onto the floor. Then she gestured with her thumb behind her: "Oh, and Liz? It wasn't three stooges."

Six silhouettes appeared behind her.

"I took down two out of the eight." She smiled, pleasantly. "Would you two be dears and help me slaughter the rest of these motherfuckers already?"

o-o-o

"Well, I'm finished!"

Patty stopped typing, the neon pink laptop set on the coffee table, as she raised her balled-up fists into the air. Tsubaki, sitting next to her on the couch in the living room, then saw Patty dramatically lift one index finger and send it crashing down onto the keyboard, as she pressed "Print" to send the story from her sister's laptop to the wireless printer in Kid's office.

Patty leapt from the couch. "I'll be right back, Tsu-and no peeking!"

Tsubaki laughed. "Okay, okay, I won't."

As Patty dashed up the stairs, Tsubaki's eyes followed here. When she was no longer in view, Tsubaki snatched up the laptop, and started reading. She skipped the first few pages-just exposition, establishing setting, trying to distinguish the leading men-to get to the juicy bits. Her head started to tilt, and then she mouthed, "Oh my God!" as she got to the good parts. How vivid the details, she thought. And-and how did Patty know just how to put such beauty into these words?

"What are you reading, Tsubaki?"

Upon hearing the voice over her shoulder, Tsubaki slammed the lid shut. Maka saw Tsubaki's eyes meet her own, her face red and her body sweating all over. "Nothing! I wasn't looking at anything!"

Maka blinked. "Whatever that nothing was, it seemed to affect you." She pressed a hand to her forehead. "You're heating up! What did you see?"

"N-nothing at all!" Tsubaki forced a smile. "I just, um, read something spicy!"

"Spicy?"

Tsubaki slapped her forehead over her word choice.

"Like a recipe?"

Tsubaki's eyes widened, as she glanced at her friend. Maka looked so innocent.

"You know, my mama-"

"I don't want to hear that!"

Maka blinked again. "As I was saying, when my mama really gets cooking, she adds a lot of spic-"

"La la la!" Tsubaki covered her ears and closed her eyes, yelling to block out the sound.

"I was just going to say my mama always added spice when she would make me waffles! Why do you think I put hot sauce into the gingerbread!"

Tsubaki risked opening her eyes at Maka.

"Jeez, what were you reading?"

"Smut!"

Tsubaki stopping singing, as her face collapsed upon seeing Patty return and hand a pile of papers to Maka. As the meister skimmed them, her eyes widened. "Smut?"

"What are you, an owl?"

"I-I don't follow, Patty," Maka stammered.

Patty cocked an eye at her, thumbing at her fellow partner as she explained: "I wrote Tsubaki some smut for Christmas! You know, since she is the biggest pervert out of all of us!"

Maka glanced at the two young women, one beaming with pride, the other curled into a ball and wishing she was dead.

"How is that an appropriate Christmas gift?" Maka asked, curious.

"I write smut every Christmas for her-it just seems appropriate! I write her some smut for Christmas, for her birthday, for Arbor Day-"

"Why Arbor Day?"

"When else is it appropriate to give someone wood?"

Maka stared. "I don't get it."

Patty patted her on the head. "Give it time-you will."

Maka raised an eyebrow, looking down at the collected papers in her hand. "I...am kind of happy I wasn't in the same chapters of Eibon with you two. Seriously, you still go on about that gender-bending stuff? Who is to say who is the most lustful of us, just based on who took the longest to turn back into a woman?"

"You're one to talk!" Tsubaki had her hands around Maka's arms as she shook her. "I heard you and Soul transformed almost instantly!"

"Well, I'm not one to brag," Maka said, rubbing the back of her head in mock humility. "Although I'm sure I transformed before Soul did."

"Maka, honey," Patty said, patting her back, "your innocence is admirable, but you are so missing out on life." She thrusted the smut into her hands. "Here, you need this more than Tsubaki."

Tsubaki's face continued to fall more and more. "B-b-but—that was for my eyes only!"

"What, it can be a gift for two people, right?"

"That's not the problem, Patty!" Tsubaki lectured here. "It is who you included in the story!"

"What? I kept it to two characters. It's like what Aristotle said: when you write porn, keep it to two-easier to follow."

"He said nothing of the sort!" Now Maka was lecturing her.

"And that's not the problem!" Tsubaki continued.

"Then what is?"

"You wrote smut fan fic about Black Star and Kid?"

Tsubaki froze at Maka's question-she was already skimming the pages. By this point, Tsubaki expected that her face was probably somewhere around her feet, as she yearned for some reaper to just kill her already. "Oh, God, why," she muttered.

Then Maka started reading aloud: "And then Black Star let his fingertips massage Kid's inner thighs, the young Grim Reaper having to cover his mouth to keep from moaning too loudly."

Tsubaki hid her increasingly reddening face in her hands. Patty was literally biting her fingernails in anticipation, waiting to see the reader's reaction. Maka lifted her head and titled it, her face inscrutable as her eyes studied Patty, as she struggled to gain how to best give her reaction. Tsubaki risked looking between her fingers.

Maka's smile widened, as she shut her eyes and said, "I really like it, Patty!"

"You do?!" both weapons cried, Maka thinking Tsubaki was moving forward a little too much.

"I do! The spelling is a bit off in places, but the sentence structure is varied, the descriptions are vivid, and I like how you characterize the protagonists!"

Both weapons blinked, before Patty, glowering, gripped Maka by her shoulders. "Of course you would read it like a lit professor—but the smut, Maka—how is the smut?!"

Maka still did not blush, although she was at a loss for words. "Well, um, I'm not sure I'm the best guide for this kind of thing—I just don't read much pornographic material, period."

"Liar!"

Now Maka blushed a bit.

"I mean, I may have found some…interesting material at some bookstores," she said, avoiding eye contact, "but really, I'm not familiar with the conventions expected." She glanced at some pages. "Although your descriptions of the poses are quite creative. How did you come up with them?"

Patty stared intently. Was she seriously asking how she conducted her research? What the hell kind of a reaction was that to her work of art?! She crossed her arms, pouting and turning away from Maka.

The meister looked back down at the pages in hand, as Patty seated herself cross-legged in front of the fire, leaning on her palm while furiously scratching her lower back.

"Maka," Tsubaki started, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder, trying to stop from hyper-ventilating from her earlier panic attack, "I think what Patty was hoping to ear was, um, just how the, er, smuttiness of the story worked for you, not some philosophical treatment of the piece."

"Not exactly in my wheel-house," Maka replied. "How else am I to read the work?"

"Just read it a little more literally?" Tsubaki said with a shrug and nervous smile.

Maka stuck out her lower lip in concentration on what she had just said. " 'How else am I read'…" Then her smile returned, and her eyes brightened. "Just read it!" She locked Tsubaki in a bear hug. "Thanks."

A confused Tsubaki was lifted off the floor, then lowered down, before Maka took her by the hand and plopped her beside Patty in front of the fireplace. The bitter pistol now stuck out her lip. "What do you want, punk?"

Maka held up both hands, the story still in her right one. "Patty! Hang on! Let me try something!" Maka cleared her throat. "Um, where is the best place to start?"

"You can start by leaving," Patty said, turning at her waist to study any other corner of the room.

Maka grimaced. "Oh, forget it—the beginning of the story it is!" Maka again cleared her throat.

" 'Oh, Kid!'"

Patty turned back, eyes wide, while Tsubaki leapt a bit. Had Maka just read the first line to Patty's story with a dead-on Black Star impersonation?

" 'What is it now, Black Star?' the young black-haired boy replied."

And now perfectly impersonating Liz and Patty's meister?

" 'I just wanted to say hi and see how your day was going, buddy!'"

Patty and Tsubaki exchanged looks—either Maka had cracked, or they really had too much eggnog and cider already.

"Death the Kid, always so prim and proper, shut the book before him, and with his usual precision, backed up the seat and stood in one fluid motion. 'I am studying, as this is a library.' He looked down upon his shorter colleague. 'Really, I am quite preoccupied this evening, and your presence is delaying that progress.'

"The usually loud ninja, although not one to take no for an answer, surprised Kid, by backing down. 'Oh,' he said with demureness"—Maka paused, struggling to imagine how to perform any sense of humility as Black Star, especially when she had not anticipated Patty using an awkward noun like "demureness"—" 'I was hoping you could help me with those studies.'

"Kid's golden eyes dilated a bit: was it true, that now Black Star, of all people, wanted to spend time with him? Not his own buxom partner"—Maka glanced over at Tsubaki, and upon seeing her reaction gave a wicked smile—"or his own obviously gorgeous twin weapons, who were obviously the most awesomest of awesome people in the whole big wide world"—she glanced at Patty. Ah, now there was the tone of voice she expected from the now wide-smiling, bright-eyed young woman.

"Enough with the set-up!" Patty shouted, snatching the pages from Maka's hand. "Here!" she added, flipping further. "Page 4—that's when the juicy stuff happens!"

As Maka looked down at the page to skim for the major words, Tsubaki's felt her face heat up more, as the meister's mouth tilted downward precipitously. Oh no, Maka would not persist reading something like this.

But her friend surprised her. Maka composed her, and began:

" 'His fingers nimbly wrapped around his turgid member' "—she glanced at Patty—"Really? That does not sound very appealing word choice—"

"Keep reading!" both women shouted.

"Okay, okay! Ahem—'and began to stroke it with a touch that was so delicate, so precise, that Black Star felt his body yearning for something harsher.'"

Tsubaki gripped her knees to her more closely, as Maka began to read in Black Star's voice: " 'No, harder, you fool,' he said breathlessly," Maka even adding the loss of breath to her voice, almost rasping out the dialogue. " 'Wreck me, Kid—tear me apart!'" Again the reader glanced at the author, but thinking better of criticizing the piece, continued. Oh, now it was in Kid's voice: " 'Then beg—I want to hear you want it, you god.'"

Tsubaki and Patty sat, transfixed, the fire place flickering warm colors across their faces. Upon noticing the attention, Maka blushed.

"Maka!" Tsubaki interrupted. "How are you able to—to get those voices so accurately?"

Maka started to rub the back of her neck. "After we got stuck in that soul-body mix-up last year," she began, referring to the problems they all faced upon breaking the Gorgon's Mirror, "imitating Black Star is almost second nature." She glanced back at the page, to avoid eye contact. "As for Kid, well," she assumed a stiffer posture, "if I extend the stick up my butt just enough, I can sound as perfect and precise as I need to."

Patty's giggles echoed throughout the empty mansion. She wrapped her arms around Maka, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. "Thank you for this Christmas gift, Li'l Sis!" she said. Having heard the affectionate nickname from her friend, Maka patted Patty's hand, returning her smile.

"Is that an invitation to keep reading?"

"Yes!" both women shouted, Tsubaki covering her mouth in embarrassment over her enthusiasm. "I mean," she said, "if you were willing to."

"I should defer to the artist on this one, on whether there is a better place to start."

Patty's mouth hung open at the compliment, then returned to its joyous smile. "Page 13—that's where it gets really hot! This part will really get your acting chops going!""

Maka flipped to the page. Upon skimming the imagery, for the first time in reading the pages, she found a description that made her blush. "Patty," she began, "I don't think that position is possible."

Patty raised an eyebrow, sighed, then patted Maka's head. "You have much learning, grasshopper." Then she gripped her arm. "Besides, anything is possible in fiction-now back to reading!"

Maka grimaced. "Oooo-kay," she said hesitantly before clearing her throat. "But do I have to read that many 'Oh, Black Star's'? It seems kind of excessive."

"No critiquing the artist! Now read, monkey!"

Maka sighed, sat up straighter, and prep herself for this dramatic role. " 'Oh, Black Star!'" she moaned.

Tsubaki looked away from her friend, studying the fire. As she struggled to associate Maka's voice as she performed as their friends-voices, mannerisms, all of it so well-two thoughts crept through her mind. First, Soul was lucky to have such a dedicated friend. Second, Soul was going to be so insulted in the future, should he ever learn just how good an actor she was.

o-o-o

Liz landed hard, her back crashing against the tunnel wall, knocking dust down onto her hat and jacket. Soul slid in front of her, having been repelled by a few of the mummies as he gave Kami a few seconds to clear the barrier and hide behind the Volkswagen. Once he kicked back one mummy-was he wearing eyeglasses?-he leapt back and dashed behind the car, too.

"Where's Liz?!" he shouted at Kami.

"Pistol! Move your ass already!"

Liz rubbed her head, struggling to stand up. As she lifted her head, she was greeted by a mummy.

"Hey, cutie," the mummy uttered, licking its chops.

Liz jabbed it in the face, knocking it back.

"Freak!" she shouted. Then she straightened up. "Wait-are you wearing a sequin cape?"

"It goes with my mask!" the mummy replied, adjusting his dislocated jaw.

"So much for having fashion sense," Liz chuckled despite herself. "I guess your taste in clothes is as dead as you are…"

She still stood, her eyes closed, a blank smile across her face.

"Will you excuse me a moment?" she said, before panic set back into her expression, as she dashed for the Volkswagen. "Soul, I'm going to freaking kill you!"

She dashed past the car, but Soul ducked out from behind it, taking her by the arm and pulling her back behind their makeshift barrier.

Kami was leaning against the car, holding the side of her torso.

"Hang back, Kami," Soul ordered her. We got this."

"Like hell you do," she shot back. Despite her pain, she still was able to smirk at Liz. "Pistol, you done flirting with your boyfriend?"

Liz dug her hands into the dust on the floor, struggling not to sucker punch her friend's mother.

"Kami, enough," Soul again ordered. "We need a plan."

The meister sighed. "I took care of two of those guys." She surveyed over the automotive barrier. "These guys are codenamed Bradbury, Herzog, and Santa-"

"El Santo."

"That's what I said, Soul!"

Liz smirked despite herself: Soul's conversations with her were about the same as those with Maka.

"These guys were Arachnophobia mooks. When the wicked witch was killed"-she paused, then got the dumbest grin Liz had ever seen as she continued in a higher pitch- "thanks to my darling Maka, of course!"

Soul cleared his throat.

"What, you need a lozenge or something?" Kami's lower pitch resumed. Despite Soul's glare, she continued: "After Arachne fell, these three took up some extracurricular reading: they looked into resurrecting the lady."

Soul blinked. "Which means-"

"Yep. Why do you think I took this mission, kid?"

Liz looked back and forth. "So the three guys were after Soul, to reclaim Arachne's soul?"

"There are many still after her soul, Soul." Kami struggled to get over the wording confusion. "I keep tabs on the more interesting cases, as the other guys are just fools. But these three were something wild."

"Indeed, young lady!" A voice with a heavy German accent spoke up. The mummy in colonial Spanish armor stood away from the Volkswagen, yet shouted to the three huddled behind it. "But why use is it to take one puny Death Scythe's soul"-Soul grew a blade on his forearm at that remark- "unless we do a test case first?"

"Indeed, Herzog." The mummy with glasses now spoke. "Through meticulous analysis and thorough reading, we considered soul transference." The mummy revealed rotten teeth as it smiled. "Is that not how you lost track of the Witch Medusa?"

Soul bared his teeth. "Come over here and say that, you punk!"

"You did all you could, pal," Liz said, as she pulled him back from the barrier. "I don't want any more mummies near me, okay?!"

"Oh, such a pity," the glasses-wearing mummy responded. "El Santo, you frightened the dear miss."

"Sorry, Brad!" The mummy in the luchador mask and cape spoke up. "Just being friendly, is all."

"Well, it is to your credit then, my friend," Herzog continued. "For once Bradbury here uncovered the soul transference, it was you, El Santo, who provided us the opportunity we needed to access a set of corpse to make sure that the soul transference would be successful!"

Kami blinked. "My God...you idiots put your souls into mummies? Why?"

"To preserve our Lady Arachne!" the three sentient mummies spoke.

The remaining three mummies-evidently only the re-animated proto-souls of zombie science rather than full fledged soul transference-struggled to mutter a cry of "All hail Lady Arachne," yet the chant lacked much effectiveness, especially when one of the mummies' limbs crashed to the floor, another his lower jaw.

While Liz looked wide-eyed at the gory sight, Soul dropped his shoulders, and tilted his head at Kami. "These are the guys you could not take down? Really?"

Kami tightened her grip on a pocket-sized book of DWMA regulations that she had removed from her pants pocket, ready to knock her daughter's partner over the head with it. "This is intolerable," she muttered. She raised her voice at the mummies: "So you find the only mummies in Mexico-"  
"In Guanajuato!" Herzog screamed. "How marvelously serendipitous!"

"Those people, killed by cholera, mummified, and you disturb their rest?" Kami tightened her fists. "You cannot let the dead rest? And now that you can move your souls wherever you want, you think you're taking this Death Scythe's witch's soul?"

Soul knitted his brow.

"Not a chance!" Kami shouted. "I'll be dead before I let you resurrect your idealized dead bitch of a witch!" She turned to the two weapons. "Liz, what weapons do you have?"

Liz, oddly motivated by Kami's tone, lifted her shirt up to show her holster. "Two Berettas, ammo along the belt."

"Won't give you much to hit the souls of these guys, but that'll be enough to slow them down. Stay back here and cover me, while I cut them down."

Soul chuckled, a flash of light escaping from his arm, replaced then with a blade along his forearm. "I think you mean when _I_ cut them down."

"Soul, you're with me—transform."

"What?—No!"

"You run down here to help. What, you thought you were just going to sweep in and save me?"

"N-no!" Soul stammered. "But I can help! You and me, knocking them down—"

"No argument—I do better with a scythe. Now transform."

Soul glared. "I didn't think you were so hardheaded as to head solo into a mission. Wouldn't it be better to have two bodies taking down mummies? You didn't do very well when you were the only body standing."

Kami struggled to maintain her smirk against Soul's insults. "Six out of eight mummies, cake-walk, transform now," Kami said, counting off on her fingers for each of the three sentence fragments.

"You're the one who wanted to come solo, and I'm here to do the job you couldn't do, and faster!" Soul glared at her. "I'm my own weapon on this one, and I'm getting you home!"

The three mummies looked at each other. "Um," El Santo started, "can we start fighting yet?"

"Shut up!" Soul and Kami shouted, the Arachnophobia trio backing up a bit at their cry.

Soul faced Kami again-could her glare intensify anymore? "First off," she began, "you are hardly your own weapon, rookie—not with your so-called success rate. Second, Black Op Mission: when a Death Scythe gets involved, the top meister wields them. And since Pistol over here is pretty much useless protecting her own meister, and is barely a two-star meister herself"—she ignored Liz's glare—"I'm in charge. Do I have to quote proper mission regulations to you?"

"No, I already have had that book drilled into me!"

CRACK!

"You walked into that one, Soul," Liz said, collecting the Death Scythe off the dusty floor, as Kami replaced her pocket regulation book into her shirt pocket.

"Death Scythe, transform."

"Fine," Soul said, still rubbing his head as he lit up and transformed into a beam of light that re-formed into his scythe form, now resting in Kami's hands. "But you need to get something straight, Kami," he added, as his reflection appeared in the scythe's blade. "I don't like being wielded by anyone else. I may be starved for souls, but I don't like consuming any other than the ones that my meister collects with me. I am doing so you can get home to your daughter already."

"And I appreciate it," Kami said with a smile, her eyes still hardened in preparation for the fight ahead. "Pistol, cover me!"

Liz steadied her firearm on top of the Volkswagen, as Kami leapt over the barrier, using the head of Soul's scythe to steady herself as she flipped through the tunnel's overhead space, landed with a wave of dust exploding out from her, and swung Soul through Bradbury's torso, disabling her third opponent. Herzog and El Santo recoiled.

Kami lifted her head, smirking, as she transferred her soul's wavelength into Soul's blade, ready to end this fight quickly.

Then she felt an arm wrap around her leg. She looked down, to see not only the upper portion of Bradbury was still alive-well, living dead-but so too the two other mummies from outside, who had crawled their way back into the tunnel.

"Did I forget to mention," Herzog began, "that our bodies will not simply dissolve upon your disabling of our corporeal forms?"

"No, I don't think you did," El Santo responded.

Kami's steely resolve belied the fear she felt creep into her. "Then what you are saying is that your skin and bones block any access from a weapon, even a Death Scythe, to reap your soul?"

"Get me closer, and I'm sure I could tear it out," Soul added.

"No, no," Herzog continued, sneering at his opponents: "We are like onto zombies, my friends. And if you cannot even reach the very soul, then how can you eat it?"

As the monster approached a Soul-wielding Kami, Liz, watched from afar, her pupils dilating. "They can't be killed," she whispered. She struggled to steady the aim on her weapon, as she pointed it at the mummy in the colonial armor, and fired.

o-o-o

WRITER'S NOTES: CHAPTER 10

Another chapter, another story I still haven't written: Maka's reference to the Gorgon's Mirror is something I have in mind for a little body-swapping narrative, sort of.

I'm ashamed of myself for writing smut—not so much for the actual presence of smut, but the poor quality and the trolling I did by just giving snippets. The benefit of having Patty writing that stuff is that, should my writing be awful at that portion, I can just blame her for it. I do not anticipate trying to write smut in the future.

Kami hits Soul with a book: I have this headcanon that both her and Spirit would use books to hit people. They picked up the trick from Lord Death's Reaper Chop. But then Sid also used a book against Maka in _NOT_—so I figure he probably picked it up from Spirit or Kami, as one of them probably was teaching at the DWMA and had Sid as a teaching assistant.

I stretched the truth quite a bit on the Mummies of Guanajuato, but they were the reason I named the Arachnophobia agents after three people who used those persons' remains in literature and film-Ray Bradbury, Werner Herzog, and El Santo-and that is a trio I never considered before. As well, since I named one guy after Herzog, I might as well have that guy go full-on _Aguirre: The Wrath of God _and don some colonial armor.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

"So let me see if I got all of this," Black Star began. "You're the real Rudolph?"

The monster sneered at the ninja.

"But you're supposed to be a good guy!"

"He's a product of a commercial enterprise, for goodness sake!" Santa screamed. "He infected this world through catchy songs!"

Black Star raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I'm lost."

Rupert intervened: "Rudolph was a promising candidate from among the herd. Yet his self-doubt and jealousy of others plagued him. His asocial demeanor hinted at an underdeveloped maturity, in need of nurturing rather than being thrust into the role as one of Santa's reindeer. We thought it best to hold off including him on the team." Rupert sneered at the monster. "I see the wait validated our decision."

Rudolph then spoke: "Upon being passed over, I departed from the North Pole, and I took to other means of spreading holiday joy through the most wicked act possible."

Black Star glared at the monster. "And what was that?"

"Creating catching holiday jingles!"

"You monster!" Black Star shouted, before pausing. "Wait, what?"

"He hooked up with a major corporation and wrote a song just about himself!" Santa added. "It was through that music he controlled the minds of so many children, tearing a bit of their soul with every listen!" He tightened his fists. "You ever wonder why you feel so irritated hearing holiday music playing over the speakers at every department store? It's because a bit of your soul dies and is transferred into this monster with each listen!"

Black Star was slowly realizing that this was the weirdest Christmas he had ever had. "Man, and I thought Soul got irate about piss poor music. How can you guys not like the song?!" He held a big smile, as he started singing: "Rudolph the Red-Nosed—"

Santa and Rupert slammed their hands around his mouth, shouting simultaneously, "Stop that! You want him to take part of your soul?!"

After removing their hands from his mouth, Black Star stared at Rudolph's face. "So that's why your nose is red—your Kishin soul is on top of your face, enlarging each time you get another bit of someone's soul in you?" He looked back at Santa. "I think I know why Kid is so weirded out every Christmas—what the hell have you been doing the guy?"

Santa sighed. "I have lost good people to you, son," he said. "Winky, Hermey, the Easter Bunny—"

"What?!" Black Star shouted. "Then who left those painted eggs in my apartment last year?!'

Santa slapped his forehead-this kid just wasn't getting it. "That's Tsubaki, you twit!" He stared back at Rudolph. "But this monster—it is because of him, not only do I give up my December delivering gifts, now I also have to deliver eggs every April. Do you know how hard it is to find a bunny suit in my size?!"

The conversation was enough time for Rudolph to dash at Santa, tackling him into the snow. As Black Star ran to tear the beast off of the jolly old elf, with his hind legs Rudolph kicked him back, yet the ninja was able to land on his feet. From this position, Black Star dashed to the left of Rudolph, attempting to knock him from the side. He leapt for the zombiefied reindeer's head, grabbing Rudolph by his antlers and tugging him away.

"My brethren!" Rudolph cried.

With order, the still mind-controlled reindeer stampeded at Black Star, tearing him away from his opponent, their hind legs stomping onto his torso as he desperately attempted to roll away.

Meanwhile, Santa and Rudolph continued to wrestle in the snow. Despite being a mess of bones and muscle with barely any skin covering him, the cloaked figured that was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was able to hold his own against Santa Claus, the two locking hands as they dug their feet into the snow.

"Weak knees, Papa?" Rudolph chided his opponent. "Not mine—strong hind legs. The kind that used to kicked across the sky for you."

Rupert clutched Rudolph's arm, holding it back from crashing again into Santa's gut. "

"I have back-up."

Rudolph sneered. "Behind the brat with the bad haircut?"

The reindeer's body collided against the snow, as it felt something flat and wooden knock him across his face. Looking up, he saw the still bright weapon in Santa's glove, having transformed into his hands from where Rupert previously gripped the reindeer's hoofed hand. The light faded, as Santa stood, tapping a cricket bat against his open right palm.

"Papa spank, then."

With that, Santa sent the bat back and forth across Rudolph's face, dislodging remaining bits of skin and fur from his decomposing skull.

"Monster!"

He slapped him again, sending Rudolph down onto his limbs, blood streaking from him across Santa's already crimson coat.

"Brute!"

He kicked him in the head, knocking the reindeer back into the snow.

"Naughty person!"

He slammed the bat over Rudolph's hind quarters. Santa lifted the bat again, holding it in the air. "I give you your ending, Rudolph. By the will of my weapon, Rupert, I claim your soul."

As Santa sent the bat falling to the ground, he was blinded by a red light—a laser, beaming from the Kishin reindeer's nose, singing Santa's hair and beard as it knocked him down into an explosion of snow, it too melting by the temperature of the monster's attack. As he attempted to sit up, his back pressed against the brown dirt, a hoof pressed against his neck, as Rudolph stood before him.

"I kill you, Papa," Rudolph uttered, his nose brightening by each second, "and now, I go down in history!"

CRUNCH!

Blood gurgled out of Rudolph's mouth. He glanced down to see star-covered mittens, now covered in muscle and nerves, ripped through his abdomen.

"No," Black Star whispered, his face sliced from reindeer hooves and his back aching from escaping the stampede. "You just go down."

Black Star looked to the heavens and shouted: "Finishing Strike! Black Star Big Wave!"

The soul force ripping through every part of the skeletal reindeer tore his body apart, an explosion of his remains littering the snow around him. Black Star was thrown back against the throne, splintering its back, knocking out the child. Rupert, barely conscious, managed to dig himself into the snow, and hold down the nearby Donner. Other reindeer, awakening from their mind control, let instincts take over to hold against the wind ripping across the tundra. Santa felt the most force of the assault, bits of his previous colleague knocking against him, as he shut his eyes against the mess.

The explosion slowly silenced. Santa slowly opened his eyes, feeling a red glow still upon him. It was not a nose: it was a Kishin egg. The large man struggled to right himself, limping a bit as he approached the soul, and cradled it in his hand.

A tear rolled down his cheek, freezing as it crossed his face.

His lips quivered, as he looked to the heavens, and shouted one painful syllable.

"Hoooo!"

o-o-o

El Santo leapt from the tunnel's ceiling-having crawled there when Kami was not looking-and body-slammed her to the ground, which sent Soul flying out of her hands. She was able to knock El Santo off of her-then he knocked her to the ground, smashing her in the face with a folding chair.

"The fuck?!" she screamed, as El Santo lunged at her. "A folding chair?!"

"Seriously, where did that come from?" Soul had transformed out of his weapon form, ducking from attacks from the one-armed mummy and the mummy who lost his jaw. He bisected both with his bladed arm, shaking off his limb to knock off the blood. He dashed back to Kami, leaping into the air as he transformed into a light that re-formed into his weapon in her hands, and with it, she was able to knock El Santo down, but still unable to cut through his skin.

"Ha!" the mummy shouted—until he was slammed into the tunnel's wall, a bullet lodging into his shoulder.

Liz had only expended a few bullets, yet she made her shots count in order to cover her colleagues. "Fall back!" she shouted.

"Who's calling the shots here?" Kami rejoined.

A bullet sailed past her head, knocking back the bespectacled Bradbury.

"The one firing them!"

Kami studied Bradbury, twitching on the floor. Shrugging, she dashed to the Volkswagen, hiding behind it.

She growled. "No matter how much I slice them, I can't get out their souls!" She slammed her weapon's blade hard against the stony floor.

"Hey, Kami! Watch where you swing me!"

Kami glared at Soul, not bothering to attempt an apology. "I'm the one protecting your soul here, Death Scythe."

Soul's reflection appeared in the blade, as he looked with sympathy to his meister's mother. "Azusa threatened to take back all my souls for breaking protocol." He glanced at the amalgamation of mummies. He bared his toothy grin. "But I find ways to break all the rules without paying the consequences. Come on, Kami-you know we have away to stop this."

Kami did not look up. She continued to study the dirt. Yet as Soul spoke, her eyes hardened.

Liz studied her, recognizing that the meister was meditating on some plan. "Soul," Liz began, to distract him while the meister strategized, "even your Kishin Hunter move did little. What is it about those mummies?"

Soul looked at her. "I think it has something to do with whatever spell they put onto their soul transference. But with that kind of magic, you need something pretty heavy to accomplish it."

"Not necessarily." They turned to Kami. "The stronger the spell, the more complicated it is. But complicated can mean that it has some weaknesses-shortcuts."

"Not following," Soul replied.

"You can either do a spell the proper way, or the easy way. You can either take years to organize the spell, practice it, let it grow from nurturing it"-she grimaced- "for example, I read that is what the Witch Medusa did with those snakes in her body, allowing them to fester through years of practice."

"How did you find that out?" Soul asked.

She smirked. "Interrogate enough witches, you learn a lot." She looked back at the mummified conglomeration. "But if you take the easy way, you have to sacrifice something. Let's say you want to perform a spell quickly-one way to get it done is to add some very big weakness to the spell, so that you get immense power but which can be stopped through easy means."

She removed from her pocket a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

"I thought you quit," Soul remarked, narrowing his eyes.

"Just offering a visual example, before we, you know, kick the bucket because of death by mummies."

Liz had stopped shaking at that word, her anger with Kami outweighing any fear over some mindless beasts.

Kami ignited the expensive liquid lighter, starting her cigarette. She exhaled. "Take fire for example: powerful energy, but if you just start a quick flame, you can stop it easily with simple deterrents." She inhaled, then exhaled again. "Water, if we had it." She set her lighter on the floor, then took a pile of dirt from there and let it fall through her hands. "Dirt is another. But if you plan it out, get a controlled fire going, plan for all the possibilities," she concluded, removing the cigarette from her mouth, "then you let that blaze burn through everything, destroy all, and no water, no dirt, no nothing will stop it, right?"

Soul looked again at the mummified monstrosity, as it sat there, waiting for its opponents to tire themselves-by talking, Soul thought grimly. He turned back to Kami. "You think that those idiots transferred their souls by cheating? So, what is the flaw in their plan that would make it easy to take them down?"

Kami finished her cigarette, crushing the butt into the dirt below. "Don't know." She smiled. "But I think I know someone who could help us survive until we find out."

"Who?" Liz asked.

"Duck!" a voice behind the two women and the still transferred Soul commanded. After they looked at each other and shrugged, they did as directed-and a laser beam of light crossed parallel to the floor, burning through two mummies, leaving behind smoldering limbs and two red souls.

"The hell was that?" Liz asked.

"I told you help was coming," Soul said from within his weapon. "I sensed him a bit ago, thanks to your perception, Kami."

"I'll give you points for that, Soul-I didn't catch them coming until just now?"

"Mind cluing me in?" asked Liz.

"Please, please," the voice said from the hallway's edge. "I am a man who needs no introductions."

Emerging from the hallway, stood a squat figure, in baggy shorts and a backwards baseball cap.

Kami blinked. "You mean behind the monkey, right?"

Enrique growled at her, his mirror smacking her directly in the forehead. As Kami held a hand to what would be a nasty bruise, she saw reflected in the mirror what looked like, for lack of a better description, a skeleton with a bear head.

"Tezca!"

"Hey. How's it hanging, Kami?"

WRITER'S NOTES: CHAPTER 11

Yay, I get to write Tezca and Enrique!

But this chapter is a disappointment. It has been difficult trying to write what amounts to four different stories—Black Star and Santa, the women in Gallows Mansion, Liz and Soul and Kami, whatever Kid is doing—because of an ensemble cast. And now adding two more characters is weighing it down. One frustration I had with the last episodes of the Soul Eater anime was how little actually happened per episode, because attention was divided: Maka is heading to wherever Crona is, and that evidently takes forever; it takes forever for Kid to get to the Circus Town or whatever it was called; it takes forever for Black Star to run to find Mifune waiting for him—and all the fights wrapped up in pretty much one episode, barring Marie and Crona against Stein and Medusa.

At least this chapter concludes the Santa tale—and my apologies for sentimental drivel, but I could not pass up some pathetic opportunity to have Santa shouting to the heavens. As well, I like the image of Santa looking like Simon Pegg from _Shaun of the Dead_, complete with the cricket bat and blood.

Next chapter: The end of the mummy fight, a return to Gallows Mansion for some Maka and Tsubaki bonding, and onward to concluding this story.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

"Had you going for a bit, didn't I?" Kami chided Liz.

"Oh, good, two failed Death Scythes. I am in such good hands."

Soul's eye twitched at that one, while Tezca's bear mask obscured any apparent anger. Therefore, his voice had to do more of the work:

"Failed?! I will have you know I have cheated death, twice!" Tezca shouted from inside the mirror, before hacking up something fierce. "Don't suppose I can bum a smoke off of you, Kami?"

"Quit two months ago." She avoided Soul's stare at her, as she serendipitously replaced her cigarette pack. She left her lighter still sitting in the dirt. "Why are you here?"

"Azusa thought you might need some backup: consider me and Enrique your Christmas gifts all wrapped up!"

"And you aren't further south, why?" Liz questioned.

"Unlike some people," he thumbed at Kami, "I can delegate to my lieutenants."

"An army of cosplayers spread throughout South America-I'm quaking in my boots," Kami teased, her sense of humor returning. Then she studied the monstrosity behind them. "Actually, you lit the way for us in more than one way. Check it out!"

The mummies had their bodies partially incinerated by the blast, but more importantly, each of the individual corpses now had exposed at its center its own soul-the red balls very slowly receding into their bodies as muscle and skin reformed over them. But still, all of them realized, the souls could be drawn forward, and hence collected.

"So, you showed us that light and fire can burn through these mummies!" Kami was ecstatic. "Makes me wish I brought one of my students here, actually-he'd a made quick work of them."

"Not quite," Soul said, pointing from his blade's reflection at the remaining body parts, as they crawled to each other and, upon a bolt of energy leaping off of the two souls, reformed into a two-headed mummified beast.

Liz squirmed. "Have I mentioned that I really cannot stand mummies?!"

"No," Tezca said, placing his head between his hands. "Please, go on, this should be fascinating and not at all tedious." He sat up straighter. "So, you think what I'm thinking, Kami?"

Soul completed the thought for them: "You light 'em up, Kami and I sever the souls' connections with their bodies, I eat up before they get any further."

"And give a prize to the sharp-toothed Death Scythe!" Tezca congratulated his peer. "You with me on this, Kami?"

"Plan sounds good," she agreed. "Pistol, stay back and watch-give us cover as we need it."

"Fine by me!" Liz said, holding up her hands as she was re-loading his weapon.

As Kami stood and leapt over the barrier, with Enrique following after her, Liz heard an object fall out of her breast pocket and onto the stone floor. Picking it up, Liz saw it to be Kami's cigarette lighter, the fluid capsule still in it. She rolled her eyes-not that she had much room to criticize: a cigarette sounded really good right now.

It felt more desirable, as she saw the mummies surround the two meisters, neither one able to hold back their opponents for long. While Tezca's reflection of light was able to blast through one or two mummies, they were reconstituting themselves at a faster rate than before.

"Quite a significant find, eh, Bradbury?" Herzog repeated, as he smash his fist against Kami's throat, knocking the Death Scythe from her hand and tossing her against the wall. Kami was able to flip herself back upright upon her descent, and tackled the armored mummy to the ground, fighting bare-fisted. Yet her efforts were voided when Bradbury knocked Enrique to the ground, took his mirror, and smashed it over Kami's head, before tossing Tezca across the floor, landing behind the Volkswagen and the awaiting Liz.

"Tezca!" Liz shouted, picking up the mirror. All she saw was static, the mirror communicating nothing, showing nothing of the Death Scythe.

Soul reformed into his human form, and ripped Herzog off of Kami. He stabbed through both Herzog and his armor, nailing him to the wall, and with his other hand again bisected Bradbury. He then felt his chin knock against the tunnel floor, as he was tackled by El Santo.

Upon seeing this abortive fight, Liz bit her lip, knocking the side of the mirror with the palm of her hand. "Come on, dude, don't do this to me!" I am not going to watch my friend and my other friend's dumb mother die because you and I and some monkey can't kill some ugly, stupid, mummified mummies!"

"Hey!" a voice said over her shoulder. She turned, seeing El Santo holding an unconscious Soul over his shoulder, looking at her over the Volkswagen. "I'm not ugly!"

Liz shouted, slamming the mirror's edge against the mummy, knocking him across the room, and sending Soul tumbling across the floor. As Liz panted, eyes glaring at the corpse as it bounced along the floor, and at her disabled friend lying motionless, she heard a voice: "Nice one, Liz!"

Liz's eyes widened, as she looked back at the cracked mirror, seeing numerous instances of Tezca waving at her. Despite her surprise, she still was able to smirk. "Glad to see you back, furry." Then she looked more serious. "Not that it does much for us at this moment."

"Maybe for you guys."

Liz grimaced.

"What? I've survived worse."

"Kami is currently sliced on the floor, and Soul is being eaten by mummies!"

Tezca peered out of the mirror. "Huh. She looks like she only has a flesh wound."

Liz held out the mirror and dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. "Fuck this," she muttered, as she lifted the cigarette from the floor, and ignited it with Kami's abandoned lighter. She felt calm flow through her body with the first inhale.

"Can I bum a smoke?"

She stared at the mirror, its shattered glass facing down onto the floor. "How would that even work?" she asked, as she lifted the mirror back up. She ignited the light again, and held it up to Tezca's image: "What, do I just give you the light first, and then—"

"Just give me the cig, already," Tezca said.

Then Liz and Tezca both recoiled, as the flame exploded from the lighter, taking the form of a skeletal hand reaching for her.

Liz rubbed her skin, feeling a slight burn taking off the hair from her hand. "Did…Did a hand just reach out at me?"

Tezca was clutching his own hand. "I don't know," he said, "but my hand feels like it's on fi—"

Inside the mirror, he uncovered his hand, to find that same flaming skeletal hand—as he desperately patted it against the mirror itself to extinguish the blaze. "Shit, that was freaky!"

Then Liz and he looked at each other.

"If you can already reflect light to blast the mummies—"

His mask assumed a fiendish sneer. "Then I'd like to see what a little fire can do."

She returned the sadistic smile. "You tear them apart, I'll fire at the remaining ones."

"Let's do this!"

She ignited Kami's lighter, threw it at the mirror, and took off running away from the Volkswagen. From the corners of their eyes, as they pushed away mummies, Soul and the two meisters could see the vehicle explode, as it rose from the floor and crashed into the roof, knocking down part of the tunnel and sending reverberations through the floor. The mummies stopped pacing, looking up long enough for Liz to put bullets through each of their heads, sending them down to the ground.

"Guys, duck!"

Kami, Enrique, and Soul did as instructed, as Liz continued to fire at the monsters.

"And what good is that going to do?!" Kami shouted, lifting her head up.

She was answered by a growl coming from the now dilapidated section of the tunnel. Enrique gave a grunt of recognition.

"The hell was that?" Soul asked.

A burst of flame came from the rubble, taking the form of a skeletal hand twice the height of any of the mummies. As more rubble was pushed, what was revealed was a figure made of fire, its limbs taking the form of bones, save for clawed feet and hands, and the head of a sharp-toothed bear.

"Tezca," Kami said, with a smile.

The bear roared, as it smacked away mummies from its path, their bodies exploding in flames, crashing into the tunnel's walls, until flesh and muscle dissolved, leaving behind only bones and souls.

Bradbury and Herzog looked at each other.

"I think our experiment requires some revision, yes?" the latter asked the former.

"I couldn't write anything weirder than this!" the former shouted, as they dashed for the exit.

They were blocked by a gun-toting woman, no longer afraid of mummies, as she eyed the duo.

"Gentleman," she said, the cigarette still hanging in her mouth as she offered two to her opponents. "Last smoke?"

Herzog growled, knocking the items from her hand as he pounced at her.

He was met with a lighter, igniting his face, as Liz kicked him backed and unloaded bullets into him. As Herzog rolled across the ground, he attempted to rip off his helmet, but to no avail, as the now hot metal fused to his skull.

Bradbury ran past Liz, yet felt her hand grip around his neck, as she tossed him against the tunnel wall. She held the lighter against his chest, searing his chest until his red soul was revealed. She then backed away, and fired repeatedly into his cavity. As Bradbury felt the temperatures increase beyond 400 degrees, he really wished he had asked for that cigarette.

"Kami!" Liz shouted to the meister, as she tossed her cigarette onto the floor. "Take Soul and start eating up these Kishin eggs before they pull their bodies back together!" She stamped out at the cigarette onto the floor. "Hurry!"

Kami hesitated, then nodded. She held out her hand, and Soul, without a word, reconstituted himself into a Death Scythe. Enrique followed, holding the still quivering mummies down as Kami swung her weapon against each other, exposing their Kishin eggs. For each one, Soul's arm would emerge out of the blade, and deposit the soul into his awaiting mouth.

Meanwhile, Tezca gripped the last mummy—the one in the luchador mask—and flung him away by his cape. He landed at Liz's feet.

"But I'm too cute to die!" El Santo whined, the flames engulfing his body.

Liz smirked, as she aimed her firearm directly between his eyes. "I'd say you're too hot not to die." She fired.

o-o-o

"God, I'm parched!"

Maka downed her water in one gulp, her throat parched from the reading and shouting. Acting sure took a lot out of her. In her lap laid Patty's head, the aspiring writer fast asleep by the fireplace. Maka tussled with her hair, which somehow caused Patty to start kicking her leg a bit. She glanced at Tsubaki, who for minutes had stared forward at the fire.

Maka cleared her throat. "I guess I did a pretty good job acting, huh?"

"Yes!" Tsubaki was a bit too eager to answer. "Um...Have you, um, tried that before?"

"Those positions?! Heavens, no!"

"N-no! I mean, the acting?"

"When would I have an occasion to?"

Tsubaki shrugged. "I'm sure you could get some really mean revenge on Soul, if you thought about it."

Maka studied the fire, a wicked grin crossing her face. "That's a really good idea-thanks!"

"Don't mention it." Tsubaki paused. "Really, please, I don't want that kind of credit."

Maka smirked. "Hey Tsubaki?"

"Hmm?"

"Hornball," Maka started to chant, waving her arms.

SNICKT!

"I could cut you right now," Tsubaki whispered, the kunai appearing seemingly out of thin air.

"Sorry, sorry!" Maka said, pushing her hands forward, before she commenced again tousling Patty's hair. "And thanks for the distraction."

"You are welcome," her friend replied, relieved that the teasing had concluded for the evening.

The two women sat in silence, Patty's heavy breathing being oddly meditative as they studied the flames.

"We never lit a fire in my house," Maka said, absentmindedly.

"Hmm?"

"I mean, it is warm enough around here that it's not needed. But I kind of wish we did. We had some odd traditions every year, though. I used to sneak into my parents' bedroom exactly at 12:01 AM-set my Neko Muerte watch to it exactly-and shout, 'Wakey-wakey!' Mama and Papa would wake up, take me downstairs, and let me open one box, for an early start to gift opening." She glanced at Tsubaki. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I just mean, we didn't need a fireplace to gather around every year-it, well, just tended to be that I could congregate to their bedroom." She paused. "That stopped after the divorce."

Tsubaki took her hand. "Didn't you say that your mother used to take you around the northeast in the winter?"

"A few times," Maka answered, the topic of her missing parent not evidently troubling her. "Her cabin in Northampton is great-you should come visit!"

"You...plan to meet with her there?"

"Yes! Mama already scheduled a date after the New Year. There probably won't be much snow, but it should be fun. I roped in Soul-oh! You and Black Star should come! Mama always gets a kick out of seeing him-she always goes on about how grown up he is."

Tsubaki looked incredulous. "Black Star, grown up?"

"Well, compared to how he was when he was toddler. As long as Black Star isn't soiling himself, Mama thinks it's an improvement."

Tsubaki struggled to stifle a laugh. "I haven't had a chance to vacation somewhere else since, well, training with him at my parents' estate."

Maka studied the floor, afraid to bring it up. "You have anything that you're family would do, around winter?"

"We're not a big Christmas family, if that's what you're getting at."

"That transparent?"

"Very. But the snow is so beautiful in that part of the country. You'd see some footprints from the animals that may still be up when they should be hibernating." Tsubaki now tousled with Patty's hair. "I can think of a few of us animals that should be sleeping."

"Blame our dumbass partners for keeping us up."

"Hush," Tsubaki chided her. She kept looking into the fire. "My brother was great at identifying those footsteps." Her smile started to fade. "I still have the book he left, where he sketched the different prints and the animals he thought they were." Her hand was trembling as it went through Patty's hair, and the sleeping women started to squirm a bit. "I keep wanting to finish some of...some of the entries he didn't…"

Maka wrapped her arms around Tsubaki, letting her friend cry into her shoulder.

o-o-o

She inhaled deeply. "God, it's good to smell fresh air after so long!"

"Weren't you guys only in those musty halls for, like, an hour or two?" Tezca called out to Liz from the mirror, Enrique holding it so that he could get a view of the expansive Avenue of the Dead. "I mean, for crying out loud, you act like it took days to get out there."

"Hard to keep track of time when you are having so much fun," Soul said, rotating a sore arm after the displeasure of staying in weapon for so long. Then remembering how long it had been for Tezca, he stopped. "Thanks for your help back there."

"Meh, I was around-think nothing of it, kid." Tezca glanced around the edge of his mirror, as Kami finally emerged from the darkness, her face illuminated by three red orbs she juggled in one hand. "Hey, Kami-you gonna eat those?"  
Kami wasn't having any of Tezca's humor. "Here," she said tossing them at the mirror Soul was about to open his mouth to protest, then stopped himself: the other Death Scythe not only had seniority over him, and his own set of problems, but as usual, it did not feel right to claim souls that he did not procure with Maka by his side.

Her mother walked past Soul, Enrique, and Liz, while nibbling was heard from Tezca's mirror.

"I want to thank you all for your help." Kami kept her back to them, as she hunched over a bit, placing her hands in her pockets. "It...was fun."

Liz and Soul glanced at each other.

"It's not often that I get to work with some competent people who can handle themselves, whether fighting solo or in teams." She glanced back. "You too, Soul."

He studied her.

"I see you will do a great job fighting solo when you finally get your assigned continent." She struggled to force a smile.

"Not looking forward to speeding up that process," he muttered, rubbing his shoulder.

"Excellent work from you, too, Elizabeth."

Liz almost fell over backwards. "A compliment?"

"Don't get spoiled on it. Good work kicking some mummy ass."

Despite herself, Liz was practically gushing, as she began to laugh uncontrollably. "Well, you know, it's not big deal," she began, placing her hand behind her head. On either side of her, Soul and Enrique started to inch away, thinking she was about to lose all her sanity. "Wow, how cathartic!" Liz exclaimed. "Nothing like some brutal murder to exercise them demons."

"Exorcise."

"That's what I said, granny," Liz replied to Kami as she walked by her, the older woman's eye starting to twitch. "So, let's get you back to Death City, reunited you with your daughter, and we can end this roller coaster ride of a Christmas Eve!"

" 'Bout time," Soul said, hutched over with hands in his pockets. "I look forward to a few Z's and then gift opening."

"Assuming Maka got you anything," Liz teased.

"Hey," he said, a smile across his face as he thumbed back to Kami, "with what I'm bringing back, I expect one hell of a good gift!"

Liz resisted telling Soul what she thought Maka would give as a gift-she didn't want to pollute his innocent little mind. Not that she had much chance to say anything, as Kami immediately spoke up:

"I'm staying."

Liz and Soul's eyes widened, as they looked behind them.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but I have clean up to do here, reports to file, and training to re-commence on the 26th."

"I could cover for you," Tezca answered from the mirror. "As Death Scythe, my intervention supersedes yours, so I have to report to Azusa. Woo, I look forward to seeing her! I heard she is quite a sight this year." He started chuckling. "Your ex sure got her good!"

"No."

"Oh, come on, Kami!" Tezca shouted. "I can even cover for your teaching! I'll be the fun avuncular presence to your old and bitter rule-stickler! The kids'll like me-I can even do funhouse mirror games with them!"

"They'll eat you alive and spit out the bones," Kami answered deadpan, continuing to walk down the many steps back to the highway to wait whatever bus would happen to pick her up.

"No problem-I have a knack for defying the death odds!"

"Hold it!" Soul called, holding Kami by the shoulder. "Maybe none of us can convince you to come back with us, but I'm sure Maka could. What do you say to her, when she learns that Lord Death assigned me to come out here-and she will, trust me, she is really good at reading things she shouldn't"-he glanced at Liz, adding, "like some people I know."

His fellow weapon crossed her arms, taking mock-offense.

"And what am I to do when I come home with nothing?"

Kami looked at him, with a sad smile. "Tell her that you failed to bring me home."

Soul's sneer disappeared into a grimace of confusion.

"Truth tends to quiet people's unease. You should try speaking it."

"Could say the same to you! You aren't staying out here just because you have work-you stay because you are afraid!"

"Damn right I am!" Kami shouted, gripping Soul's fingers, as he felt her vice grip crushing them. Her voice quieted. "I have not spent Christmas with her for four years now."

Soul's glare dissolved into a neutral look.

"I didn't come back to the North American branch until February this year, right? So this is my first Christmas back. But no matter what, no matter how much I tell myself, I can't face it."

She struggled to harden her eyes. "The Christmas lights, the dinner, the snow walk together—I cannot give any of that back to her." She struggled to keep her eye contact with her daughter's partner, a boy—a man—that—that could be such a huge mistake for her darling Maka. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm on a mission, Spirit is on a mission—when he's not on top of who knows which woman—so Maka needs to around with people she can depend on." Soul ignored the pain, as he felt her dig her fingers into his skin. "Go home. It's too hard for me."

Soul, while determined to maintain his glare, looked away first.

"Bullshit."

Kami felt a hand grip her shoulder from behind, forcing her to turn and face Liz Thompson.

"It's hard? So sorry that facing your daughter is hard. Sorry that you, little miss perfect soldier, can't stand to see your daughter on a day she has been looking forward to seeing you for so long."

Kami felt Liz's nails dig into her shoulders. She fought back hot tears-not from this brat, but from her own failures.

"A child wants more than anything to see her parent! Even if it is just to see her so her daughter can slug her in the mouth and curse that bitch out for not being there when she needs her, she still wants to know that she is alive and loves her just enough to drag herself to be physically present. Hard?!"

She took Kami by her shirt, and gave her a shake, crashing her against another of the dilapidated walls around the ruins. "What is that rule from the Academy you keep preaching, that you feel fear to get stronger? Think you plateaued, huh? Like you don't need to get stronger? Fuck that! Stupid asshole—you can face mummies but not being a mother?"

Liz snatched the mirror away from Enrique.

"Look in the mirror and tell yourself that you aren't strong enough! I want to hear you admit what every fucking bitch mother like you thinks, that she can't be bothered to show any love to her fucking daughters!"

Kami could have torn her soul out with her own hand. At any other moment, she could think of 37 ways to kill an opponent, starting with the limbs, the nervous system, the heart, the brain, even the pinkie toe. At that moment, she was considering an old-fashioned bearhug—not to kill Pistol, heavens no, but just to shut her up already.

She hazarded a glance at the mirror, to see what was probably a bawling, horrid mess of a face.

She did a double take, and her tears stopped, as she looked up at Liz. "Um, Pistol? I don't like what I see in the mirror."

She gently turned it around to Liz, who saw Tezca's skeletal form staring at her.

"Hey. What's up?" he said with a wave.

"D-don't ruin the metaphor!" Liz stammered, pushing Kami back against the wall with one arm, her grip increasing upon Tezca's mirror—creating more cracks in it, the cosplayer looking with hesitation as his space became more precarious to occupy.

"Now get on that gaudy motorcycle"—

"Hey!"

"Fuck you, Soul! And you are riding back to Death City, now!"

Kami pushed Liz's arm off of her. She smirked, as she wiped away her tears. She chuckled, and put her hands into her pockets. " 'Bout time you grew a pair, Thompson." She marched to the bike, studying it. She kicked the tire.

"Soul, don't you keep any helmets?"

"No, Mrs. Albarn, I don't," Soul droned.

He knew where this was going.

"Soul Eater! I am not riding some death vehicle without proper protection!"

Liz glanced at Enrique, then at Tezca. She smirked, and crossed her arms. "Any place to drop you two off?"

From the mirror, Tezca looked around. "Nah. I think I had enough asskicking for this Christmas. I kind of want a night to just us."

Tezca gazed at the stars. "Too pretty tonight to head to any urban squalor. Plus Death City looks too gaudy this time of year."

He looked at Enrique. "What you say, buddy? Stargazing on Christmas Eve?"

Enrique gave a squeal of agreement, snatching his Death Scythe from Liz and hurrying down the hill. As Liz shook loose her hand, imagining it would remove whatever germs littered Enrique's hand, she watched after them, then looked up to the stars. Actually, she thought, upon seeing the duo stop at the center of the Avenue of the Dead, maybe looking at things from the vantage point of such a scary place wasn't such a bad idea. After all, you need to be a little scared to appreciate what you got around you. Fear is what allows you to test your courage, right?

Well, time to test it tonight.

"So, losers," Liz called out to the fuming meister and pissy Death Scythe, a grin forming across her mouth, "we heading out or what? I want to get home in time for Christmas."

WRITER'S NOTES: Chapter 12

I hope that my portrayal of Kami is suitable for fans who place this character in the middle of so many debates. The arguments I tend to notice refer to her as someone who fails as a parent by abandoning her child, or as a great parent who allows her child to stand on her own as an independent soldier. Because Maka's mother has no canonical appearance, the criticisms against her cannot be supported. Yet I do not want to introduce her as just a perfect character: she is someone who had a poor marriage, took the responsible action to get out of it, and has continued to have a part in Maka's life, whether from a distance or, as my headcanon is, within a close physical distance. I think it is fair to present her as having doubts about her role as a parent—not only because she is still a young parent, but because I cannot imagine any person thinking they do a perfect job taking care of their own kids.

And Liz Thompson is badass. Based on her own problems with a mother, I like that she is the one to talk Kami down. There are many problems with my story—it fails the Bechdel test on every Maka/Tsubaki chapter as their conversations refer to Soul, Black Star, or now Masamune. While that is not the only means by which to determine how well a story handles representations of gender, I do think those chapters are some of the weakest in having those characters sound real. My goal was, as with the eventual payoff to Kid's story, to show how these more serious characters like him, Maka, and Tsubaki contend with gift-giving challenges with their more irascible partners. As well, I wanted to look at what goes through Tsubaki's mind when she thinks about her brother, especially during the winter holidays. I even get to have a throw-back to the Book of Eibon with Tsubaki pulling a kunai from out of nowhere.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Kid looked down. This idea was poorly conceived, yet if such an aged individual as Kristopher could accomplish it, so could he.

Thank goodness that this chimney was oddly more spacious than others, he thought, as he lowered himself, inch by inch, into the opening, then shifted his feet and hands, a bit each time, along the brick work. His hands were sweating from the stress, however, as he maintained his grip on the rough surface. He practiced his breathing, inhaling and exhaling, to minimize the amount that he was sweating. Let it was like a faucet, pouring from his forehead down his neck and shoulders and eventually to his hands.

Plus it was feeling a bit smoky in there.

"Oh, damn it all." Kid really hated clichés, as he saw the fire creep around him and singe the edges of his suit. And of course, the resulting asymmetry lead him to pat out those flames-and lose his grip on the bricks, falling downward into the fire below.

"Damn damn damn!" he shouted, as he crawled out from the fireplace, patting his behind swiftly to extinguish the blaze but to no avail.

Salvation came in the form of foam that sprayed onto him, a five-year-old holding a fire extinguisher as his parents stood behind him, the child's two older siblings staring in disbelief.

"Some apartments get Santa," one of the older children said, "and we get stuck with the Grim Reaper's emo son."

"Emo?" Kid questioned.

He then noticed both parents holding weapons-a baseball bat and a golf club. One of the other children had a hockey stick. Wonderful, he thought: he hit upon a sports family.

"Jeffrey Cruz, I assume?" he said to one of the men standing behind the three children. "Please, I am here only to retrieve what I asked from you, then I will be on my way."

"Why are you here, Mr. Emo Reaper?" the five-year-old asked.

"Lad, please, I simply want to speak with your father-"

"Which one?" all three kids asked.

Kid looked at the two fathers. "Which of you is Jeffrey Cruz?"

The man with the baseball bat lowered his weapon a bit. "Oh, please, can't you just leave me alone?!"

"No. Not when you have something I want."

He felt the three kids tackle him to the ground, the five-year-old sitting on his chest, the two older boys pinning his arms and legs.

"Please!" Kid pleaded. "I have had a miserable night: muggings, subways, now a burnt posterior! I just want to borrow something from you!"

"You partnered with those two bastards?!" Jeffrey shouted. "Forget it!"

Kid sighed. "Then as one pseudo-parental figure to a real parent, would you please consider that I want to offer something to Liz and Patty that their mother never provided to them?"

"Some class?" Jeffrey sneered.

"That's enough!" he barked. He sat up, the one son wrapped around his arm, the five-year-old somehow still sitting perpendicular to his chest despite Kid now standing straight, and the last son dragging on his leg, as Kid marched towards Jeffrey, took the baseball bat from his hand, and snapped it in half.

"Some happiness, you fool," he growled. "Now take me to wherever you keep your photographs, or I swear I will make sure Santa Claus fills this entire apartment with nothing but coal for decades to come."

Jeffrey glanced at his husband.

"Well, take him already! I don't want coal here-it's not environmentally sound."

Jeffrey sighed at his husband's timidity. "Really, Raul? God." He gestured for Kid to follow. "I was looking at those images when you called last week, so I already have them out. Take them and beat it-I'd like to catch some sleep before I'm stuck reporting on tomorrow morning's parade."

Kid smiled. "Thank you." He continued to walk, the three boys still attached to his body, impressed at the physical strength and apparent magic held by Lord Death's very own son.

o-o-o

Tsubaki inhaled. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Maka replied.

"I don't suppose I could get you reading smut again, could I?"

Maka chuckled. "Get Patty to write some, and I'll consider it. Which pairing do you think she'll imagine next?"

"You and Soul."

SNICKT!

"I could cut you right now!"

"Hey, give me back my kunai!" Tsubaki shouted.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeello!"

The two women looked at each other, then turned to see, in one of the many mirrors adorning the living room, the familiar shape of Lord Death pierce through the liquefied glass, as he stepped back into his mansion. As surprised as they should have been by the blinking Christmas lights adorning the foam reindeer antlers atop his head, they really weren't. "Whoo-wee!" He stretched out his back. "Am I exhausted. Hello, Maka, Tsubaki! I see Patty is all tuckered out. What was she doing, applying make-up to her dolls again?"

"Hi, Lord Death!" Maka exclaimed, forgetting she might awaken the young woman whose head was still in her lap. "Actually, Patty's had a long day: she wrote some...interesting literature, put up all the decorations, and even killed that tree over there."

"Ah, yes," Lord Death said, turning to appreciate the decorated tree. "Kid had told me you all took down that beast-excellent work!" Then he studied Patty. "Wait a second...Something's off here." He sniffed loudly, then recoiled. "Alcoholic eggnog!"

Maka and Tsubaki glanced at each other, cringing.

"Um, Patty, may have…" Tsubaki began.

"Did she go through my private stash?!"

Tsubaki studied him. "You...keep a private stash of eggnog?"

"Doesn't everybody?!" Then Lord Death ripped a portrait off the wall, taking off part of the plaster with it, revealing a safe. He pressed an ear-if he had one-to the safe, as he completed the combination, pulled on the lever, and revealed an infinitely long space that contained carton upon cartons of eggnog. "Woo! Thank me, it is still there!" Lord Death pressed his hand to his chest, calming his still beating soul, as he reached into the safe with foam hands, removed one carton, pinched the top, and guzzled its contents in one noisy slurp. Maka and Tsubaki's faces communicated their disgust with the sight and sound.

"Now, then," Lord Death said, having tossed the carton aside and procured another, "how went the missions for your partners?"

Maka and Tsubaki looked at each other. "Lord Death," Tsubaki began, "I had sent Black Star to keep Kid company while he completed his holiday shopping."

"Oh, that old lie again," Lord Death said. "Honestly, don't I teach that boy anything about telling the truth?"

Maka resisted the urge to ask Lord Death about some of the problems he had had with the truth before, instead opting to test him on whether her own weapon had some truth-telling problems: "And Soul? He's on a mission, too?"

Lord Death stopped guzzling his third carton of eggnog, as he struggled to cover his slip of the tongue. "Er, um, Soul and Liz got a mission-"

"You sent my sis?!" Patty said, having awoken. "Do you know what she'll do with Soul," she slurred her words. "I can't even begin to write that smut!" With her somewhat drunken stupor, Patty landed back in Maka's lap-face first.

As Maka struggled to compose herself, she continued her line of inquiry: "So, Black Star and Kid are on a mission, Soul and Liz are on a mission-how long before they get back?"

"Oh, Black Star and Kid are on their way back right now. I haven't heard from the others, though. But I'm sure they're fine."

"And will they be back home in time for Christmas?" Tsubaki tested him.

As he guzzled his seventh carton of eggnog, Lord Death answered with only a small hiccup, then promptly passed out.

Maka sighed. "Soul, that idiot," she cursed her weapon. "What monster is he facing right now?"

o-o-o

"I'm telling you, you need to add more nutmeg!"

"I know how to bake a pie, okay? I have been the one cooking pumpkin pie every Thanksgiving for the past three years, and every year Maka loves it!"

"She's just being polite—trust me, I know what my daughter wants more than you."

"You soul resonate with her on a daily basis? No? Then shut the hell up!"

"Pull over! I'm going to knock so much common sense into you, that you're granddad will remember to wear a condom rather than let your progeny persist!"

"Piss off!"

Liz Thompson really wished that her soul space included some music. I mean, if Soul somehow could conjure a piano set in his, couldn't she at least get an MP3 player? Or better yet, how about a hot tub? She had always had a nude form in her weapon space, so she was already properly attired. She sighed. Kid's Christmas surprise this year better be complete isolated access to the spa room so she could unwind—without him storming in again while she was in the middle of lounging.

"It's not my fault that your cooking likely gives my daughter ulcers!"

Jeez, the arguing was continuing.

"You even cook for anyone other than yourself recently? What, your cooking skills probably atrophied so that the most you make is a can of beans and coffee!"

"So, Kami!" Liz interrupted. "How would you put together a meal?"

"Funny story, actually!" Kami shouted over the drone of the motor—and into Soul's ear. "I am a whiz at breakfast prep! Omelets, bacon, pancakes—all the food my daughter loves."

"Omelets make her gag."

"The way you make them probably, Soul—can't handle eggs worth a shit!"

Soul gripped the handlebars. Maybe he could hit a tortoise or something and just crash the bike—he'd survive, right? He had been lucky so far getting over life-threatening injuries, right?

"The trick is the spices. For example, waffles—you got to add some Cajun seasoning."

"Yuck!" Soul uttered.

"Really?" Liz shouted from within the pistol sitting in Kami's holster. "How fascinating."

"I remember when Maka was four, I could not get her to eat anything but waffles or mac and cheese or peanut butter sandwiches. For lunch, she was so peculiar, that I would pack a peanut butter sandwich with bacon, fried banana slices, and honey on it."

"Oh?" Liz had stopped listening. Soul wished he had, struggling now to vomit.

"Called it the Elvis!"

"More likely would have killed her!" Soul shouted. Where was an overturned tortoise when he needed one.

"And my daughter thinks you're a music expert?" Kami shouted over the motor. "That's where you're wrong! Elvis isn't dead! That's just a DWMA old wives' tale!"

Then Soul Eater said the one thing that he did not believe, that he never agreed to, but which he could not dare to pass up, the joke too good to ignore, but which would ensure he would get such a painful head injury, that it was amazing he did not spill out while riding:

"You would know."

Even Liz felt a little bad for the brain damage he had to have felt from that one—and just as bad that she laughed. At least she stopped feeling bad—or, went from feeling emotionally conflicted to physically injured—when Kami was done throwing the book at her, too.

o-o-o

The top hovered over the steps to Gallows Mansion, as Black Star departed down its steps, then turned to look up at Santa and Rupert.

"That was pretty fun, Kris! We should do it again sometime-how are you for Easter?"

"Painting eggs, remember?"

"Maybe I could help!"

"You'd crack them all, kid," Rupert chided him.

Black Star groaned. Then his eyes brightened. "Hang on! I want everyone to meet you! Hey, Tsubaki! You still there!"

"Ho, Black Star!" Santa walked down the platform, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Remember, my friend, you must tell no one of this mission."

"But I still don't get it-you're a living legend!"

"Legend! Exactly! I am the stuff of dreams and myths, and I like being able to fade in and out of the spotlight as I can." He removed his hand, and walked a bit away, looking at the stars. "My old friend, Lord Death, is more of the showboat. Sure, he may be locked up in this city, but the world knows his face, and they see his work through people like you. It is you kids that give examples, true examples, of what you can do with your abilities, whether as warriors, or like those kids in the N.O.T. classes! But I am some old elf, and my example is to be what people aspire to, not necessarily what they will become. Do you understand?"

"Not...really. Just sounds like old person's rambling." He held up his hands. "But Tsubaki is really good talking to old farts! Let me go get her, and she'll parse it out!"

"Oh, for crying out loud-Santa is for children, not adults!" Rupert cried. "Just let the secret stand, you brat!"

Black Star glared at the rotten elf/weapon/pain in his ass. "Back off, you little squirt, or you'll be stuff propping up a table somewhere."

CRACK!

Rupert stood over a now supine Black Star, as he held a gigantic candy cane, snapped in half.

Black Star had enough. "Hold up! How come Kid gets not one, but two gifts, and I get jack shit?! I've been nice today!"

"But Kid has been a good boy this year, Black Star."

"Your dumbass weapon just clubbed me in the head with an oversized candy cane!"

"I know—that was hilarious!"

"And who's to stop me from telling all of Death City that I worked with the great and mighty Santa to save Christmas?!"

"This!"

Black Star then felt something wet and chunky pour down his head and through his clothes.

"Ug!" He turned to see Rupert, now back on the platform, holding a now empty carton. "What the hell, dude?!"

"Security measures, per Kid's suggestion: we cannot have you telling anyone about Santa Claus's existence, or else you will compromise the intricate weave of lies that sustain this joyful holiday season."

"You trust Kid with this secret!"

"He's practically family," Santa said, followed by a belly laugh. "Besides, Black Star, you'll probably blab blab blab"-he punctuated the point by opening and shutting his hand like a mouth-"to Tsubaki as soon as you get inside!"

"And if I do?! She'll believe me! Why woudn't she?"

The empty carton smacked Black Star in the head.

"Alcoholic eggnog," Rupert said. "As far as anyone will know, you got drunk on the stuff and imagined the entire evening."

"And who is to say, that with this Christmas magic at this time of year, young Black Star, that you did not just imagine this evening?" Santa Claus said, as he walked back towards the ninja, a twinkle in his eye.

"Me! I can say I didn't imagine it! I still have the scraps on my arms from that crazy reindeer head butting me with his antlers!"

Santa chuckled and placed his right hand on Black Star's shoulder. He put a finger to the side of his nose, and concluded, "But seriously, don't tell a soul."

Black Star closed his eyes, tilted his head away, and sneered. "Yeah, yeah. 'Cause I'm just one of the boys on your naughty list who doesn't get jack shit this year."

He felt the pressure leave his shoulder, and upon opening his eyes, he saw nothing before him, except for the shimmer of light, like a glitter falling from the stars above onto the ground. And as the light fell, Black Star finally noticed sitting at his feet was a sizeable box, about the size of his head, with a recipient card attached to it: "From: Black Star. To: Tsubaki."

"Aw, man!" Black Star bemoaned. "He couldn't even address the gift to me?!"

Another empty carton of eggnog beaned him in the head.

He looked up to the heavens and saw only a few faint lights, Death City being too bright to allow any stars other than him to shine.

He sighed. "Alright, I get it! Jeez!"

"Black Star?"

Hearing his weapon's voice, he turned, seeing her at the front door.

"Hey."

"Hey. You...were out an awfully long time. Kid just got back, and he had said you were on a mission."

His frown transformed into a smile. "Oh yeah! I was fighting zombie reindeer with Santa Claus!"

Another empty carton of eggnog hit him on the head. Tsubaki looked up, then back at Black Star, and figured she should not bothering questioning any more of the weird happenings of this evening. "In any case," she hesitantly began, "I think we had best get home. It is late, and we should accompany Maka back to her apartment."

"Cool! I can't wait to tell her and Soul about how I, Black Star, saved Christmas!" He dashed past her and up the steps

"Soul is not here."

Black Star stopped running for the steps.

"Neither is Liz. Evidently Lord Death sent them on a mission."

"Gah! Is this like a running theme this year, everyone being away for Christmas Eve?!"

"And maybe morning." She walked up to him, and placed her hand on his shoulder. "From the sound of Kid's description, I am not sure that Soul and Liz will be back before Christmas."

At that moment, the clocks in Gallows Mansion began to chime-twelve tolls for midnight. Black Star gave a rueful smile. "I got Kid home in time for Christmas, at least."

Tsubaki struggled to smile. "Yes. Because I can always count on you to keep your promises."

He sighed. "Just wish you could count on me to predict everyone else's behavior." He placed a hand over hers on his shoulder. "Come on. I at least want to wish Kid and Patty a Merry Christmas."

"Okay," Tsubaki said. "Although she's a little preoccupied."

"Drunk on eggnog."

Tsubaki could not resist smirking. "She is not the only one."

"What makes you think I was drinking?"

"Three empty cartons outside, it seems," Kid said, meeting him at the steps. "Welcome home."

"Good to be back," Black Star said, fist-bumping both of Kid's extended hands.

"I trust your mission was successful?"

"Eight tiny reindeer circling the globe right now, boss!"

"Excellent work, assassin. I owe you."

"Yep, you still do," Black Star said, tossing back his head to laugh loudly, before stopping himself, and looking again at the gift under his arm. "But this is a start."

Kid glanced at it, a knowing smile appearing on his face. "I think you will like it. Kristopher tends to focus on gifts that are either entirely useful, or entirely useless."

"Man after my own heart." Black Star set the gift down, and wrapped his arms around Kid. "Merry Christmas, Kid."

"T-thank you for your gift to Kristopher and me, Black Star."

The mini-reaper blushed, as Tsubaki did, too, while Maka, emerging behind the two young men, covered her nose. "Jeez, Black Star, you smell like a barroom floor."

"How would you know that?"

"Have you met my father?" She thumbed back behind her into the mansion's living room. "And because Lord Death smells just as bad right now-I think that eggnog had alcohol in it."

"My, you are innocent," Kid said, raising an eyebrow. "Does not most eggnog?"

"Not the kind I drink!" she said defensively, holding up her hands. Looking back to see Patty asleep, then Kid studying her, and finally Black Star and Tsubaki smiling at her, Maka looked to her feet, as she walked down the steps.

"Um, Maka," Kid began. "It is rather late to go home when…" He let the sentence trail off, rather than remain her about her partner's absence. From what he heard from Maka and Tsubaki, he was not very pleased with his father either for sending one of his partners out on a Christmas Eve, now Christmas Day mission: it was bad enough to have only one of his weapons at his hand, but it was another that, for all the years he denied himself a Christmas Eve with his weapons, that his father would deprive him of his weapon's-his friend's-company.

And for some reason he could not quite define, he did not want Maka to feel that same guilt regarding her weapon's absence.

"If you would rather stay here overnight, I could make up a guest room for you."

Maka lifted her head, and looked over her shoulder. "I really appreciate that, Kid," she began, "but it's not like my home is far from here. And I already have two great guides here," she said, gesturing at Tsubaki and Black Star, his smile ever widening.

It faded, as she felt Kid, who had walked down the steps, grip her by both shoulders. She blinked her eyes, fighting back more tears.

"Yes," Kid said. "Merry Christmas, Maka."

Maka looked forward, sniffed loudly to hold back the tears, and choked out, "Merry Christmas to you, too."

Kid patted her arms, stood back, and held his hands behind his back, as Maka, ashamed, walked as quickly as she good to start her journey home.

Kid tried to maintain a happy face, despite recognizing how awful he made Maka feel. "To you as well, Tsubaki. Thank you for keeping Maka and Patty company."

"My pleasure," she said, bowing.

"What are those papers rolled up in your back pocket?" Kid asked, looking around her.

Tsubaki froze, then covered her behind. "Nothing!" She took a now grinning yet still tearful Maka and a very confused Black Star by their hands, and dragged them away. "Merry Christmas to all of you! Good night!"

Kid blinked, and half-heartedly waved. "Yes, good night," he whispered. He returned to the hallway, closed the doors behind him, and was about to lock them when he paused. He instead stood straighter, and marched back into the house.

Looking into the living room, he saw Patty, though curled by the fireplace, kicking a bit as she laid there, shivering a bit. He scowled. He continued walking up past the entrance to the living room, up the stairs, all the way down the end of the hall to his room, and shut the door. He let out a quiet curse, as he removed a blanket from his bed, opened his door, closed it behind him, and retraced his steps back to the living room. His frown persisting, he unfurled the blanket, letting it fall gently to the floor to drape over Patty. He then tucked its edges around her, as she began to stop shivering, a smile forming on her mouth.

"Thanks, Kid," she mumbled.

Taken aback, Kid's frown melted away, as he let out a soft laugh. He looked up at his still sleeping father, gave a nod to him that he knew he could not see, and walked to the lounge chair opposite him by the fireplace. From there, he could see down the hallway and to the front door. From there, he would stay awake-as a reaper, sleep was unnecessary, eggnog-induced blackouts excluded, evidently-until his missing partner would return home to them.

o-o-o

She was exhausted, having insisted repeatedly to Black Star and Tsubaki that she really was fine, that she did not need their company, that they should catch up on sleep, that Black Star needed a shower badly. Still, it was her talking out of her usual hardheadedness: as she entered their dark apartment, and did not see him in the living room, or the kitchen, or in his room, she felt a pain tug at her heart.

Then she heard water running in the bathroom sink.

She dashed to the bathroom door, and stood there, waiting for him to come out. She didn't know how she would respond to him first: Yell at him? Hug him? Maka Chop him? The last one seemed good-maybe just a light tap on the head, let him know he was wanted but that she also wanted to bash him harder.

The door slowly opened, and the light inside the bathroom revealed a shadow far too curvaceous to be Soul.

"Oh. Hi, Blair."

"Maka!" The cat-woman collected the young woman into her buxom chest, and squeezed tightly. "Merry Christmas!"

Upon hearing a muffled reply, Blair apologized, lowering Maka back to the floor. She then glanced around. "Say, where's Soul?"

"So, he hasn't come home?"

"No. Why, was he out?"  
"On a mission."

"Is that the only reason?" she asked with a smirk, tilting her hips and crossing her arms.

Maka didn't answer, still looking at the floor.

Blair's ears drooped, as she struggled to think of something to say. "Maka," she began, forcing a smile, "why don't you join me? ChupaCabra has a night of fun! Drink specials, attractive visitors, karaoke! We even got a Santa this year."

Maka could not help glowering. "Sexy Santa with tear-away pants and a g-string?"

"Well, we try to cater to our audience." Blair almost sounded offended by Maka's judgmental tone.

Maka gave a good-natured chuckled. "It's fine, Blair. Go have a fun time. I'll...stay up a bit, in case he comes home before sunrise."

Blair pouted. "Will I at least see you for dinner at Kid's house?" She held her hands out in front of her, curled together, as she swiveled back and forth. "I promise to bring a tasty dish, not just a fish platter but maybe a dessert, too?"

Maka gave a beaming smile. "Yes, you'll see me there tomorrow! But please try to be on time-and no strippers this year."

"No fun!" Blair said, curling her finger to enchant her purse to levitate behind her as she walked to the door. "But seriously, if you need me, call. The new cashier is really good at staying sober."

"I'm amazed people go there on Christmas Day Morning."

"Lots of lonely hearts, doll-just want some conversation and drinks to drown the sorrows of another year."

"How...optimistic," Maka replied.

"I try!" Blair blew a kiss to her. As she began to shut the door, she poked her head back in. "Merry Christmas, again, Maka."

"Merry Christmas, Blair."

With that, Blair smiled, and slowly shut the door. Maka kept her smile on her face until she heard the click of the lock. She stood staring at that door for what felt like hours. She didn't feel her knees give out under her as her backside hit the couch cushions, as she still stared at that door. The smile persisted as she felt the tears fall onto her wrists. She covered her face and gave up any pretense of happiness.

o-o-o

WRITER'S NOTES: CHAPTER 13

Hi, Blair. Two more popular characters are introduced briefly in the last chapter.

I still do not like how I write Maka. I mean, her moment holding a kunai on Tsubaki is awesome, yet I have not written a scene with her really kicking ass. But there is some SoMa in the last one, which was a little easier to tackle, especially the parts where she and Soul bicker like an old married couple.

Rupert's method to ruin Black Star's credibility is stolen from _The Simpsons_ Halloween episode: if you need to discredit a conspiracy theorist, cover them in alcohol. At least repeated cartons hitting Black Star hardly causes Tsubaki to react, so that was funny.

Liz wanting a hot tub in her soul space is stolen from a conversation with Professor Maka, which you can find at my Tumblr, user name soul-dwelling: /post/63896828010/


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

"Wakey-wakey, sleepyhead."

Her eyes were puffy, her pillow still moist—even the back of her neck felt wet. Had her neck cried, too? No, that's stupid. Maka shook her head a bit: she was still coming out of her dreams and what lack of logic that they had. Through blurred vision, she could make out a toothy grin and penetrating crimson eyes.

"Soul?"

"Merry Christmas." His smile was so wide, his eyes so innocent, as he peeked over the couch cushion to see her. His eye was bruised and a bandage wrapped around his head. His jacket was draped around his shoulder, his forearms exposing lacerations across them.

"You look awful," she mumbled. "Give…give me a few more minutes of sleep, I'll help you then bandage yourself up."

Seeing her puffy eyes and wet pillowcase, he said nothing, but smiled.

Unwilling to wait for his response, her body still exhausted from stress, she glanced at the window. "It's still dark out—we can open gifts later." She turned over, wrapping the blanket around her tighter, not out of coldness but in defiance. Then meekly she added, "I'm glad you are home."

He poked her back.

"Quit it."

"Maaaaaaakaaaaaa."

She hated when he dragged out her name, trying to get her to do something she did not want to. "Another hour, Soul." She untangled one arm from the blanket, and lifted her index finger. "One gift. Then back to sleep with you."

He looked under the tree. "Yeah, I would, but I still don't see one." He smiled. "Unless my gift is in my stocking, eh?"

Then he heard a small sob.

Great, he thought-screwed up again. "I don't want to open a gift, Maka—I want you to open one of yours."

The silence hung for a moment. Maka slowly sat up, and looked at him. "You got me only one?"

Soul frowned. "Kind of ruining the moment, nerd."

She met his frown with her own. "What, you think I won't like it and want to know whether to return it?"

A cough emanated from the front of their living room, as both glanced. Soul looked annoyed, Maka looked curious. The apartment door was open.

"After the work I did, I really do not want to drag it—"

Another cough came.

"—all the way back." He rubbed his head. "It was a pain enough delivering it."

A growl came from the doorway. To Maka, it sounded like the cross of a bear and a hippo.

"Who's there?" Maka's voice rose a bit, as if she was struggling not to wake up the imaginary other inhabitants of their apartment.

Soul sighed. "Just come in already—the surprise is kind of ruined."

"Maybe if you didn't drive so fast, Eater, my voice wouldn't be so hoarse. Be a dear and get me some water, 'kay?"

Maka's eyes widened at the voice.

"And you, young lady, really should practice your soul perception better. Home invader would have gotten the drop on you minutes ago."

"Mama?"

Kami leaned down next to the couch, and stroked her daughter's hair. "Merry Christmas, honey."

The mother first noticed that the arms across her neck were not so tender any more, not so short any more, and were a lot stronger than she remembered. But Kami could still catch Maka in her arms, and hold her close, as the tears of both women dampened each other's shirt, Maka's sobs being the louder of the two. From the kitchen, Soul glanced away from the scene, sipping from the glass he had just filled from the sink. The cool water relieved the dull ache he was now feeling in his own throat, and he could not help but give a rather audible sigh of relief.

o-o-o

Laughter filled up their apartment, as Soul laid belly-down in bed. He didn't mind the noise-it was pleasant to hear his meister enjoy her gift. He drifted in and out of sleep, mostly out of it when his name came up.

"Your partner is kind of a dick."

"Mama!"

He slammed a pillow over his head to suffocate himself back to sleep.

If he had been in the living room, and not fallen back to sleep in his own room, he would have seen Kami hold up a hand to silence her daughter. She continued, a little more quietly: "But he's your partner-you chose him, so you are stuck with him, at least until Death Scythe Soul Eater gets re-assigned to some other continent."

Seeing her daughter stop smiling, and her attention drift off to the books sitting on her coffee table, Kami adjusted her tone. "Keep him as long as you can, before you get assigned a new weapon to train." She sipped on her tea. "You have good taste, so you should stick with Soul for as long as you can." She closed her eyes, to test her daughter' reaction while she spoke her next remark: "It's not like you are married to him or anything."

She heard Maka's teacup stumble a bit on the table, and then silence. She opened her eyes to see a small blush on Maka's face.

"Y-yea," was all her daughter could stammer.

"Soul has a good head on his shoulders." She sipped again. "Could stand to put a helmet on it though."

"That's what I've been saying to him!" Maka gleefully said, desperate for a change in topic.

"And that motorcycle? Gaudy!"

"You should see what he used to wear-red pants!"

"Get out!"

"And skull and crossbones boxers, too!"

Kami studied her daughter, as she raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

The blush returned to Maka's face.

Silence continued. It was different now between the two women, not just a child and a parent relating to each other, but one adult to another. Maka could not describe where exactly she felt differently oriented to her mother, nor Kami to her daughter. Yet it still felt familiar, because it was built out of love.

"I missed you," Maka said, looking into her tea.

Kami wiped a tear. "Same."

They sat in silence.

"You should thank Liz, too." She sipped again on her tea, then concluded, "And Soul."

"I will, Mama. I think she'll be a bit busy with Kid today, but I'll see her at dinner tonight." Then she remembered. "Oh! Will you come, too?-Please!"

Kami studied the ceiling. "Oh, jeez, I was kind of hoping to get back to work. So much paperwork, get back to my students in Mexico City, torture them, kill some monsters, get an early start filing my taxes, you know?"

The pillow hit her head. "You little shit!" Kami laughed at her daughter. "But really, you should thank Soul. I'm sure a good Christmas gift will work"

Maka kept staring down. "I cannot find one gift for him. I was so busy helping Liz and Patty with decorations, then fought a tree monster-"

"_Abies insanus_?"

"Yeah. It's been a crazy year."

"You have a new one to look forward to. And an excellent partner with you." She sipped again. "Just make sure he protects that hard head of his."

Maka smiled.

"And wears some pants."

Her daughter slammed her head into her lap. "What the actual fucking hell, Mama?" she mumbled.

"Watch your mouth, young lady," Kami said, sitting up straighter and taking an extended sip from her cup. "I will not abide fucking cursing in my presence, goddamnit."

o-o-o

It was seven o'clock in the morning when Liz set foot inside Gallows Mansion, and her head was killing her-mostly because Kami was even better at a Maka Chop than the young woman who gave it its name. She kicked her shoes off as she walked down the hall, not bothering to pick them up, as she turned right into the living room. The fire was still burning, Patty curled on the floor in front of it, a blanket wrapped around her. Lord Death somehow had arrived but was out like a light-a disgusting wet mess of eggnog still dripping from his overturned cup onto the carpet. And staring at her was a very irate young reaper, his arms crossed, one leg over the other as he sat in the lounge chair.

"You're late," Kid accused her.

"You've been late four years now-hardly call that being even," Liz threw back.

"I was gone because I was trying to help you!"

That tears it, Liz thought: long motorcycle ride, one pissy Death Scythe, one bitchy meister, a monkey, fucking mummies, and whatever the hell Tezca was. Time to rip a mini-reaper a new one.

"Help us how, Kid? I have to worry enough about you being away from us, for this long, and I can't get your dad to tell me anything"-she pointed to him, still passed out around a stack of empty or half-full eggnog cartons-"about whatever this glorious mission it is that you were on!"

He blinked. "Cat's out of the bag, huh?"

"Ah ha!"

Both glanced to see Patty awake and surprisingly sober. "I knew I heard Shinigami-sama-kun say that you weren't really shopping for us! How dare you, Kid!"

Kid sighed. "Look," he began, "in previous years, I have been completing missions."

Both women crossed their arms.

"But," he continued, "it was in service of getting gifts, to have some help from an old family friend, to find out what would suit both of you."

"Oh, so they weren't _your_ gifts, then?"

Kid clenched his teeth, although feeling relieved to tell the truth.

"Lie one time, lie again," Liz began. "Maybe a little honesty would go a long way for us to trust you."

"So, my being honest about lying, somehow negates me now being honest?"

"Yes!" Patty exclaimed. "Whatever you just said!"

"Fine." Kid walked to the coffee table, where sat an envelope. "I was in New York City, visiting some of your former hangouts."

Liz stood, stunned. "You were where?"

"I wanted to see where exactly it was that you to hailed. I tracked down someone who could-"

He felt the sting of Liz's slap across his face. As much as he knew that no mark would remain on his invulnerable body, the pain felt like it would persist in memory for quite a while.

"You bastard." Her hands were balled into fists. "Who the fuck said you could look into any of that?"

Kid struggled not to hyperventilate. Liz's glare was too intense; looking to Patty, however, he felt even worse, seeing tears well in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I-I didn't realize that dredging up something from the past, something as innocuous as this, would be so unsettling for the two of you."'

Liz stood silent, as Patty rose to her feet, approached Kid, and began to beat her fists hard against his chest. Again, each hit felt harder than usual.

"You could have stayed! You did not have to go all the way to New York! Stop going away from us! Stop getting sucked into books! Stop taking missions alone!" Patty increased her grip around his shoulders. "Don't leave us alone again!

Kid's arms hovered over Patty's head as she collapsed into his chest held onto his waist. He turned around, to see Liz bury her head in her hands.

"Liz, Patty." He struggled to speak with some authority, yet his voice was too soft to have much effect.

"I'm sorry."

He could feel his shirt grow wet from Patty's tears.

"It was never my intention to leave you alone."

He gingerly placed one hand at a time onto Patty's back, collecting her into a hug.

"Christmas Even is always the hardest time of year, and you must believe me that the only two things on my mind are the two of you."

He felt Patty's resist, as he struggled to maintain a gentle yet firm hold.

"I cannot explain it all, but I can say, that this was the first year in which I truly could not be here."

"We have Internet, you idiot!" Patty screamed into his chest. "Pull up a computer, search 'Brooklyn Devils'—boom! There we are, in all our wicked glory!" She pushed Kid off of her, collapsing onto the floor at Liz's feet.

Kid backed up a step, then his face hardened, as he marched two steps forward. "I was not hunting for your criminal record, Patricia." He opened the envelope. "There are many files, many images of you two, and they are not all online." He held the opened envelope out to the duo. "Please," he pleaded, his hardened stare not steadying the shimmering light reflecting from his teary eyes. "Just look at this."

Liz snatched the paper from Kid's hand. Patty looked up to gauge her sister's expression. Liz's tearful but hard eyes slowly softened, as she slapped her hand over her mouth. Patty bounced from the floor, leaning over her sister's arm to see what was in her hands.

She was staring back at herself-a younger image of herself, napping against her also young sister's shoulder. Young Patty had her arms wrapped around an empty present box. Both she and her younger older sister were asleep, their backs leaning against the stump of an enormous tree.

"That's us," she stated the obvious. "At Rockefeller Center."

"Who took this?" Liz asked.

"A very young local area photographer," Kid replied. "College intern back then for a newspaper, father now. His husband was a bit put off by my arrival, although his children were actually impressed to see a Grim Reaper." He smiled despite himself. "Evidently young children enjoy seeing the avatar of death."

Liz and Patty, although they had stopped glaring, were not impressed.

He cleared his throat. "Yet I imagine more people react as his husband did to a Grim Reaper." He looked down. "Mentioning the Thompson Sisters of Brooklyn seems to garner a similar reaction."

"Back then, we'd have smashed his head in for taking that photo," Patty said. Her voice was without malice; actually, Kid heard regret.

"Please, sit," he asked of them. Liz and Patty sat on either side of the couch, then both women simultaneously patted the center cushion. A bit astonished, Kid felt his legs take him there, as he sat between them.

He inhaled, sighed, then began: "The photographer predicted your behavior. That is why he kept himself obscured, for his own protection." He smiled a bit. "Not that it did him much good: according to him, Patty spotted him and threw a rather heavy teddy bear at him.

"It was a panda!" Patty corrected him, wiping snot from her nose and adding, "And that's not the point! Why did you hunt down for this photo?!"

Kid took her hand. "I cannot give back much to you and your sister." He looked at her. "Not after all the two of you have given me."

Patty pouted, and averted her eyes. Although Kid wasn't looking at her, Liz still turned her head, already feeling the blush come to her face.

"But maybe I can give you something from your past, something that reminds you of the better times even in those dark periods of your life."

He turned to Liz. "Give you something to remind you that you two have been good for so long, even if you won't admit it."

Liz still avoided eye contact.

"You protected each other-not through ethical means, but for good reasons. The ends do not justify the means, but I like to think that I can recognize good souls when I encounter them." He took Liz's hand as well. "I am not proud of a lot that I thought and did while I was trapped in that book. But one thing that got me through those darkest moments, even the utter madness, was knowing that you two were not there."

Patty gripped his hand. "You would do anything to get away from us, huh, tough guy?" she playfully said.

"Indeed," he answered with a smile.

"We're worthless."

Kid looked to Liz.

"Weapons who can't even protect a reaper-what kind of weapons does that make us."

"Flawed," Kid said, curtly.

Patty removed her hand from his and whapped him.

"I wasn't finished, Patty!"

"Oh. I'm sorry, Kid!" she said with a wide smile, rubbing the sore spot on his skull.

He cleared his throat. "Just because you did not enter that madness, as I did, as Black Star did-that does not make you worthless. It makes you practical. It makes you feel shame for what you did not do." He gazed at Liz. "And yet you took down eight mummies on your own."

Liz sat up. "I hadn't said anything about that."

"Azusa forwarded me the report." He smirked. "God, that red nose on her looks so comical."

"Gasp! She was dressed like Rudolph?!"

"You don't say 'Gasp!"-you just do it!" Kid and Liz said simultaneously.

"Oh. Um, well, if Big Sis here did all that to bring Maka's mommy home by killing mommies-"

"Mummies."

"Whatever-then what did I do?"

Kid looked around and pointed behind her. "You provided us with this glorious specimen of holiday vegetation."

Patty looked behind her. "You mean the thing behind the tree monster?"

"No, I mean-"

Patty pulled him into a hug. "I knew what you meant, silly. Merry Christmas, Kiddo!"

Kid couldn't help but smile, although he was finding it hard to breathe. "Well, Liz, are you going to join us in this group-"

He heard Liz's tearful wail before he felt her glomp him and her sister, sending the entire couch falling back against the floor. Despite the pain shooting through their backs simultaneously, and the wind knocked out of them, they could not help but laugh.

"Juniper bush!"

The three looked at each other, then peered over the upturned couch.

"I demand more libations!" Lord Death slurred his words, as he threw the empty glass of eggnog onto the floor, shattering it. "Pay tribute to me-woot!" he exclaimed, then fell back into his easy chair, fast asleep.

The three were stunned silent. Patty was the first to speak up: "I think your dad needs to go to AA."

Liz changed the subject: "So, if the gift was in that tiny envelop," she began, "then what's in the boxes?"

Patty finally noticed, seated beneath the tree, were two wrapped boxes that were not there earlier. One was covered in gold foil paper, the other with funny animal print-a lot of giraffes in Santa caps.

"Gift cards?"

Kid squinted at Patty. "I did not choose that large box to house such a tiny gift," he said, deadpan. "It was not for comical effect, I can assure you."

"You with a sense of humor—real Christmas miracle there," Liz said, still wiping tears.

She felt a hand on hers, and saw Kid's other hand on Patty's right one, as he guided both to the boxes. Patty was still blubbering, and not even the multi-colored paper inside—oh Kid knew the duo well—could halt her tears. Yet despite the tears, Liz and Patty's eyebrows lifted in recognition, feeling something at the bottom of each box. The sisters looked at each other, and ripped the objects out of boxes: black full-head helmets, three white stripes beginning at the brow and running perpendicular along the middle.

"Helmets?" Liz asked.

"That's considerate, Kid, but even this kind of protection is a bit much even for our usual rough-housing." Patty sniffed, wiping snot off her nose and onto her meister's shirt—as he struggled to compose himself.

"Really, Patty, please! Please, get out!"

"Oh, now you gonna kick us out after making us cry?!"

Kid clutched his skull, the breakdown in communication frustrating him. "Because the rest of your gift is outside!" He glanced at his chest. "Ug, I need a new shirt. Please, just go!"

The Thompsons eyed each other, as they headed to the Mansion's exit, hand in hand, to see just what was waiting for them. The sun shined into Liz's unadjusted eyes—Death City in winter, why should she expect much difference in the luminosity?—as she placed a hand over his brow to see sitting on the street outside, a black motorcycle with side-car attached.

"Holy crap!" Patty shouted. "Sis, we got a bike for Christmas!"

She was shaking Liz so hard that the older sister felt her mind rattled more than before.

"I trust it is to your satisfaction?"

Kid was fussing with the only shirt he could find to wear, a particularly ugly yet still symmetrical sweater, with a neon green Christmas tree on top a purple field—somehow all his other ones went missing from his room, no doubt from leaving Patty unattended all eve. At least now Kid realized how pitiful a gift-giver Spirit Albarn was, this ugly sweater essentially his go-to gift when that Death Scythe could not anticipate what else to get for Christmas. Kid held the key up to his still teary weapons.

"It's not much," he said, tossing it to Liz. "I just figured, especially after that"-he struggled to find the best words-"deplorable visit to New York City, that a smaller vehicle would get you around better than depending on subways or huge cars."

Liz and Patty struggled to keep their attention on what Kid was saying, while the shiny new vehicle sat across from them.

"And I do not know where my work will take me, so rather than leave you two without transportation while I gallivant on Beelzebub, I thought it best to provide you with alternative vehicle options."

Liz studied the motorcycle, then crossed her arms, leaning on one leg titled on her foot, struggling to re-assume her Brooklyn attitude. "Black and white, really? Couldn't you add a little color?" She stared at his face. "Maybe a little gold? You know, for a bit of wealth included? Something to go with your eyes."

Kid smirked. "My, ahem, designer is a bit old-fashioned. And an old family friend."

Liz marched up to him, slugged in the shoulder, then lifted him into a bear hug. She set him down, and blushed a bit. "It's nice."

Kid returned the blush, and scratched his cheek. "I supposed that, if you were willing, that you could let me ride in the side-car." He risked a glance at the sisters. "For the life of me, I could not determine a suitable position to ride on the motorcycle without losing symmetry. At least in the side car, I can seat myself with some balance."

Liz looked at the key in her hand, then smirked at Kid. "So this is more of a gift for _you_ then, isn't it?"

Kid put up his hands. "No no no no no no no no! I-I just was thinking practically, for any use that the vehicle could provide us!"

He felt something hit his head and obscure his vision simultaneously. "Good thing we got another helmet lying around in the garage, huh, Kid?" Patty said. She had deposited the ugly, chipped red helmet on top of him. She also tossed Liz her shoes from the hallway, and started to put on her own. "And you thought we needed to throw that old helmet out!"

"Please tell me you at least disinfected this relic!" he bellowed, his voice echoing back into his ears.

"Come on, road warrior," Liz said, pushing him towards the side car. "You got to live a bit more dangerously! 'Cause now the Grim Reaper and his sexy ladies got wheels now!"

"Really?" Kid replied. "And where shall I find these sexy ladies exactly?"

"Keep joking like that, and I'll turn you into a hood ornament," Liz said, jokingly shaking a fist at him as she picked him up and deposited him in the side-car. She then positioned herself on the cycle, struggling to feel some balance even with the side-car attached, as Patty placed helmets onto both herself and her sister, then wrapped her arms around Liz's waist. Feeling her sister's weight against her, glancing to see her finicky meister with arms crossed, offended at such manhandling after going to all the trouble for these gifts to his erstwhile weapons, Liz smiled under her helmet, and started the engine.

o-o-o

WRITER'S NOTES: CHAPTER 14

Patty is more interesting when she speaks out of authentic emotion rather than just being off-the-wall ridiculous. Granted, her killing a tree monster with artificial snow is hilarious, but I like adding some pathos to her childhood and how Kid's absence affects her and her sister.

Was my mother the only one who cursed like a sailor in front of me like Maka's mother does? I think I still have videotapes with me as a baby and her cursing up a storm.

Next Chapter: SoMa and the conclusion


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

His door was wide open, the morning light shining through the window as he was too lazy to close the curtains when he lied down for what he probably intended to be a time to relax after dealing with her mother, but which turned into an extended nap. As Maka saw the golden sunrise add its color to his hair, she meditated on just how long she had been talking with her mama.

She'd have to repay Liz for this. But first, she had to repay him.

He had kicked off the sheets while sleeping—little mutt, she thought. And of course the sight she was greeted to included his crimson boxers—she figured he probably tugged his pants off as soon as he rounded the hallway even before he set one foot in his room, as per usual. That idiot.

She tiptoed through the mess of books he had left on the floor since exams wrapped up, and she rounded the corner of his bed to sit on the side facing the window, as his back was turned away from her. She turned her head, and nudged him.

"Wakey-wakey, Soul."

He groaned into his pillow, lifting his head up, drool falling down his face. Then he saw her eyes, and almost fell off the side of the bed. Feeling the spit hanging falling from his mouth, he must have looked awful.

She hesitated, then finally said, "Um, Merry Christmas?"

He stared, then chuckled. "You're a bit late on the tradition this year."

She looked down. "Been a late on a lot of things this year." She curled a finger through her hair. "Like getting gifts for you."

"Don't feel bad," he said, his voice light. "We've been busy: a lot changes for a Death Scythe and his partner, right?"

"Partner," she repeated. "You were busy all last night. What the hell did I give you for Christmas?"

He took her hand, interlocking his finger in hers.

"Hope."

She looked at him. He stared out the window.

"I hate to speak for you on this, but I didn't think becoming a Death Scythe would be this difficult. 200 plus souls later, and I still don't have the hang of it."

He looked at her. "I thought I was getting stronger to protect you, like a weapon should. And I haven't got it yet."

She sat a little closer to him. "I can't say I've done the best job of that." She stared where his scar was. Feeling her soul touch his own, he instinctively gripped at his scar. "But when we're together, we're kind of awesome, right?"

He didn't have to look to see her infectious smile: it already was copied on his own face. "We get stronger for each other, right? We protect each other."

She sighed. Then her smile widened, as she untangled her hand from his and gripped his shoulders to face him, leaning her head closer to him. "That's it! I know exactly what to get you for Christmas!"

She had put her face so close to his that their lips were nearly touching. His eyes widened. No way, he thought. He blushed and stammered, "W-w-what's that?"

"A helmet!"

He blinked. This idiot, he thought. "Seriously?"

"Kid told me about this great shop he visited! We can even make matching helmets!"

"So, this is more a gift for you, then?"

She smirked. "The weapon follows the will of the meister, right? I'll let you pick what to put on the helmets." She nudged him. "Wings, maybe?"

His eyes betrayed the frown he was trying to wear. "Angel?"

"Hey, you just said we protect each other, right? What's better to protect you then your guardian angel!" She poked his forehead with her right index finger. "And I've harangued you enough to get a helmet!"

"So has your mom," he said with a smirk. She still had her left hand around his shoulder. He desired to swipe her hands away from him, yet kind of liking leaving them there.

"See, she does have good taste, right? She knows just as much what you need as I do!"

"What I need is you."

She stopped smiling, as he assumed his cool facade. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her. "Congratulations on surviving another year of soul gathering, nerd. Here's to surviving a few more, right?"

Though stunned, she instinctively reached her arms around him, and patted his back. "Y-yeah."

She then closed her eyes, and with her soul sent a wavelength out to him, nudging at his soul. Now it was his turn to be stunned, but he followed the will of his meister, as he closed his eyes, and resonated with her. The electricity in their bodies flowed between their souls, back and forth, generating a music that Soul could hear and, for his low musical IQ meister, play back for her. She nudged him, both against his soul and against his body, for that cheap shot. He apologized mentally, and she forgave it, at least this time. She could hear the melody of that hum play as it filtered through his soul, and she let out a soft hum, as she struggled to keep up with it. His chuckling disrupted the attempt, and she pushed him back playfully for not taking the exercise more seriously. He just smirked-like Christmas Day was any time for a soul resonance exercise.

They had pulled back from each other, then stood up. She held out her hand to him. "Partner?"

"You know it." He slapped his right hand into hers, and wrapped his left arm around her back. Then he wrapped his right around her. Soul held onto Maka for what seemed like a moment, yet lasted for a few minutes. She leaned back against him, just to create some slack between them. Her green eyes met his red ones. Her smile infected his own. She held him tight. It used to be, before his growth spurt, that her head leaned down into his shoulder; now he was just a bit taller than her, and her head now only reached up to his chest. She lifted her head, his eyes still focused on her. Maka stood a bit on tiptoes, her lips meeting his surprised ones. It was an innocent kiss, more of a peck, but it still made his cheeks match his irises in color.

"W-we didn't have any mistletoe around here," Soul stammered. "You know, that stuff is like catnip for Blair. More than catnip is already!"

She giggled. "Just accept it, you jerk." She leaned her head back against his chest. "Merry Christmas, Soul."

He sighed, and leaned his chin onto the top of her head. "Ditto, Maka."

SQUIRT!

They leaned back a bit from each other.

"What the hell was that?" Maka practically shouted.

"Sorry!" Soul shouted, then paused. "Wait, I didn't do anything." He glanced down at his waist just quick enough that Maka didn't notice. "Nope, not me!" he repeated.

They glanced out the door into the hallway, to see Kami Albarn leaning against the doorway, a streak of red across the floor and wall.

"Sorry to be a bother, kids," she began, "but it looks like one of my wounds opened up. Oh, and all over your nice rug, Maka-I'm sorry!"

Blood that was dripping onto the floor was forming a puddle on the floor. Upon seeing the children's mouths hung open—yet their arms still wrapped around each other's waists—Kami made her tone more polite: "Maka, be a dear and call Stein—I think I'll be needing some stitches. Soul, please procure some of your old shirts and rags, so I may apply pressure to the wound."

Maka pushed Soul away. "Soul, call the bandages—I'll put Stein on Mama!" She inched past her mother to exit through the doorway and to find the portable phone in the living room.

"N-no! Backwards!" he shouted after her. "Bandages on her, I get Stein!"

"Idiot!" Maka shouted, as she hunted for the phone. "Why did you get Mama injured like this?!"

"Me?!" He was yelling into the hallway closet, trying to find the bandages. "She's the nut who got caught up fighting mummies!"  
"When I'm done with you, Soul, you'll need more than a helmet!"

"Oh," Kami said, walking over to Soul's bed to sit. "She convinced you to get one, huh?"

"Quiet, you!" Soul muttered through clenched teeth, as he tossed some old shirts onto the bed. "Apply pressure on your own wound! I'll get some bandages!" He darted out of his room and into the bathroom next door.

Kami chuckled, then inhaled sharply-it hurt to laugh. But she would be okay-it was just a flesh wound-a really, really deep flesh wound-and she could trust her daughter and her daughter's new boyfriend to get her patched up. They were quite some gifted kids.

She just hoped Stein wouldn't leave a scar this time.

o-o-o

She had been half-awake for about an hour, since around 6 o'clock. She could see him across from her, although his back was turned away. Ever since he took his bath last night to remove the eggnog smell, Black Star had had a terrible attitude.

Tsubaki extended her leg across the gap between their beds, so her sock-covered foot could poke at his bare toes.

"Merry Christmas, Black Star."

"Hmph."

"Oh, sorry-I did not realize I shared a bedroom with Scrooge." She giggled softly.

"I'm sorry."

She stopped laughing, and sat up. She continued to look at him, but said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm just not in the Christmas mood right now."

She got out of bed, and sat on his mattress. "You did not seem upset last night."

"I...just figured out while I took my bath, why Kid assigned me to work with Santa."

She rolled her eyes, yet her pleasant smile persisted.

"Why not send Maka? Well, 'cause if she told, people would believe her. Maybe the same with Soul. And I'm too awesome not to send out on a mission." He turned, and looked at her. "But he didn't send you with me." Black Star thought she would look offended by Kid's oversight—but she gave a slight shrug regarding any seeming insult. "Kid didn't send you because, well, you're the most honest of all of us."

She was taken aback by that one. She moved her hand away from the bed, and closer to her face. "You know that is not true," she replied, blushing.

"See? That's the proof!" He sat up. "You're even honest about not being honest!" He crossed his arms. "Kid just wanted some patsy."

She smirked. "A patsy that did an epic job taking down zombie reindeer and saving Christmas?"

He studied her.

"Black Star, even if I do not believe your drunken reverie, I have seen you do too many amazing things to discount you as a person-not as a meister, not as my partner, but as you." She closed her eyes, and smiled wider. "You're the great and powerful Black Star-if you say you _can_ do it, I know you _will_, even if you haven't yet!"

Black Star tried not to smile.

"You brought Kid home before Christmas."

"He did that himself."

"Black Start being modest: a Christmas miracle." She nudged him. "See? You can do anything."

He looked at his bare toes for a few seconds.

"Hell yeah I can!" he exclaimed, hopping up in bed. "Black Star, the world's greatest assassin, meister, and now Santa's number one elf! Yahoo!"

He bounced to get out of bed-and slammed his head against the ceiling.

o-o-o

"Ug," he groaned, lying on their couch in their tiny living room, holding the pack of ice from their tiny refrigerator to his big fat forehead. "I wish we still had some of those snowballs in the freezer left over from Alaska…"

"You used up most of them pelting Soul, Liz, Patty, and Maka."

"And I would have gotten Kid, too, but you and him took off running!" His smile betrayed his glare. "Coward, deserting your meister like that!"

"Now, now," she held up her hands. "I just did not want to get hit by such an epic snowball colliding with the force of your godly hand, that was all!"

He turned up his nose. "Your tribute is much appreciated, Tsubaki." He opened one eye. "Seriously, thanks for the compress."

The kettle whistled on their tiny stove. "You're welcome," she said, as she held up one finger asking for him to give her a moment. She then flew across the floor, and after tossing two cups in the air, and having them land perfectly on the counter, she deposited the teabags and poured the hot water over them. Upon setting the cups onto the try, she took it to where Black Star sat up on the couch.

He took one cup, and tipped it against hers. "Merry Christmas."

"And to you as well, Black Star."

She felt his muscular arms wrap around him as soon as he downed his cup. She yelped, not so much because of the intensity of his hug, but just because it happened. "B-Black Star?" she whispered.

"And thanks for the Easter Eggs."

She blushed again. "So, I guess no more Easter Egg hunts?"

"Hey, I didn't say that!" he said, pulling her back a bit. "But I wouldn't be opposed to wearing bunny ears!"

Her face reddened more. "We'll...see about that."

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Black Star dashed back into their bedroom, and returned with the wrapped gift. "I know what the card says, but really, it is from Santa."

"Okay, okay, I believe you, Black Star," Tsubaki said, as she unwrapped the gift. "But if it is from Santa, that would mean you do not know what is in here either, correct?"

"I...hadn't thought of that." He snatched up the box before she finished opening it, and gave it a shake. "Hmm. Not breakable."

"Assuming you did not just break it."

Black Star grimaced-and let go of the box, sending it to the floor. He cringed more. "No! Sorry!"

She held up her hands. "It's okay, Black Star!" She got onto her knees, and moved the box between them. "Here, let me finish unwrapping, then we'll open it together, okay?"

He sat, cross-legged on the floor, and as she removed the paper, they each put their fingers under the lid. They looked at each other, nodded, and lifted the lid simultaneously. She reached into the box, and from it she removed a miniature Christmas tree, with tiny fiber optic lights along its artificial branches, and already decorated with a few tiny ornaments: deer, stars, and bells. As the meister and the weapon gazed at the tree held in her hands, the tree lit up on its own, alternating in colors: from red, to yellow, and to blue.

"Whoa," Tsubaki uttered. "The batteries must respond to touch."

"Santa's Workshop's best! I bet it's magic!"

"What, should I have Angela or Kim examine it?" Tsubaki teased.

"Hmph," he protested. "Don't ruin magic by having a witch explain it, alright?" Despite his annoyance, he was transfixed by the alternating colors, as they lent dimension to the tiny ornaments around it. "I bet the ornaments were hand-sculpted and hand-painted by his elves."

"And electrical engineers handling the fiber optic lights?"

"Hey, toy making isn't as simple as it used to be! I bet Santa requires at least, like, a master's or something first before you can get hired to his workshop!"

She set the tree down. "We finally have one in our home," she said, as she placed an arm around his shoulder.

"Yeah."

They curled up against the leg of their couch, and sat in silence, watching the lights alternate. While Black Star's attention wavered a bit, looking around their small apartment to see the colors change around the room, Tsubaki was astonished enough to just keep looking at her meister's excellent gift: it really was quite useful for this time of year.

Then she heard papers rustling.

"Studying That Booty: A Black Star and Kid Smut Fic."

Her face fell. Did she really just leave that sitting on the table last night?!

"Black Star!"

"So, Patty wrote more fan fic about me and Kid?"

She hid her face in her hands. "You knew?"

"Well, yeah. I keep finding it in the closet in that box marked 'Do Not Open Black Star.'"

She dug her nails into his shoulders. "Then why did you open it?!"

"I thought it was saying 'Do Not Open Myself.'" Then realization crossed his face. "Oh! It meant the box!"

"How horrifying," she muttered, her face back in her hands.

Black Star away from his partner, shrugged, and skimmed through the printed pages. "Huh. Patty is getting better."

He thrusted the papers into Tsubaki's hands. "Here, you read it!"

She hesitated.

"Come on! I like hearing when you read stuff!" He folded his hands in his lap, expectantly. "If anyone can bring to life my epic sexual prowess, it's you, Tsubaki!"

Her blush intensified upon hearing Black Star's words, yet she smiled despite herself over what was shaping up to be a pleasant, if strange, Christmas morning. "Okay, Black Star."

"Oh! And do the voices!"

o-o-o

The monitors displayed news reports from around the world, of the usual puff pieces celebrating another Christmas, with children lucky enough to have Santa visiting their homes and who were clutching the new gifts they were so happy to have received from the jolly old man.

"As saccharine as these reports are," Azusa said, fighting a smile, her arms across that ugly purple and green sweater she still had to wear for a few hours more, "I am pleased to see that Black Star and Kid were successful in their missions."

"Yes, yes," Lord Death bemoaned, reclining in his chair, an ice pack pressed to his own head.

"You really should moderate your drinking, sir," she replied, as she walked towards him. "Shall I prepare some coffee for you?"

Lord Death inhaled. "Azusa."

She blinked, surprised to hear his more serious voice.

"I think I know why Joe always wanted real coffee."

Her eyes softened.

"I don't suppose we could start a coffee fund at the Academy, could we? Among faculty?"

She smiled. "The Joe Buttataki Memorial Fund?" She crossed her arms. "Really, is that the best you can think up?"

"It's what he would have wanted!" Lord Death protested, his humor returning to him as he sat up-too quickly, as he clutched his head again. "Oh-Just, just get me anything we have."

She could not help but laugh a bit.

"Oh, Azusa!"

So much for that, she thought, glowering at the source of that voice. But not only was Spirit Albarn entering the room, but so was the meister who had wielded him, Dr. Franken Stein.

"See, Stein? I told you-hilarious, am I right?"

"I have to say, Spirit, I'm pleased that my having lower expectations of you have finally paid off."

Spirit pouted at his former meister's comment, as the scientist removed his cigarette pack and matches for a celebratory Christmas smoke.

Stein's smirk was quite sadistic. "So, Azusa, where'd you get the nose from?"

Azusa did not take the bait, opting to remain silent. "Shouldn't you have partnered with Marie for a mission, Stein? It would have done you some good rather than depending on Spirit to save you from any potential case of madness."

Stein exhaled his smoke. "I have been able to compose myself for quite a while now, thank you. And actually, the mission with Spirit was surprisingly enjoyable."

"And the northwest owes it to use for helping put the smack down on 50 wanted souls!" He bowed dramatically before his meister: "You are quite welcome, Lord Death!"

The Grim Reaper only groaned, holding his forehead.

"Oh," Spirit replied, looking concerned. "Eggnog again? You really need to pace yourself, sir."

Azusa had let this conversation go on long enough, she thought: time for some revenge. She suppressed her smirk.

"Maka called."

"My darling daughter was calling to wish me a glorious merry Christmas?"

"Actually, she had nothing to say about you at all."

Spirit collapsed in despair.

"She was calling for Stein."

More of his tears flooded the floor around Spirit.

"Evidently Kami is in town."

Spirit stopped crying, and stood erect. Stein-Franken Stein himself—froze, as he felt the cigarette fall out of his mouth.

"She needs medical attention," Azusa said, referring to her notes, "and she needs you, Stein-"

She looked up, and raised her eyebrows. No one stood before her—all that remained was a smoking cigarette on the floor. Her far-reaching sight could see Stein and Spirit, sprinting out of the Death Chamber, into the hallways of the DWMA, out of the Academy, maybe even out of Death City itself. Azusa then broke out into uncontrollable laughter.

"Hmm," Lord Death mumbled, amused. "I trust you have enacted your vengeance, then?"

Azusa wiped away a tear. "Oh, yes, indeed. Ha….I'll call Nygus: she's still in the infirmary." She gave her first authentic smile all week to Lord Death. "And I'm sure Kami's injuries are superficial. After all, she has handled worse."

Lord Death and Azusa looked back to where the two men had previously stood. "Like Spirit," both said simultaneously.

"Ho, that is a funny one, Azusa!"

The Death Scythe felt a slap to her back, which dislodged the blinking red nose from her face, as it smashed against the floor. She turned to see a familiar face stare back at her.

"Santa?"

She then felt her ribs crushed from the happy man's bear hug. She struggled and finally released herself-and found that she was back wearing her usual attire, the ugly sweater gone.

"You're welcome, Azusa!"

She blushed. "Um, yes. T-thank you, um, Kristopher, sir." She cleared her throat, placing her hands behind her back. "And congratulations on another successful holiday run."

"Oh, thank you! It was Black Star who deserves so much credit-such an excellent student you have here!"

Azusa grimaced. "Please tell me you are joking."

"Completely!" Santa said, his jovial tone yet conflicting remark leaving it unclear to Azusa whether he was serious.

"Santa!" Lord Death shouted, extending a hand to shake to the spirit of Christmas, the Grim Reaper's headache evaporating in his presence. "Good to see you! You are just the man I wanted to see!"

"Ho?" Santa questioned. Then he chuckled. "Let me guess-eggnog stock?"

"Indeed" Lord Death squealed. "Come, let's re-stock my supply now and toast to our good health!"

"Sounds joyous! Lead the way!"

Azusa stared as the two men departed, her mouth hung open. She studied them as they passed through the mirror centered in the room, vanishing to whatever mysterious space her greedy lord kept his eggnog stock. She shrugged. At least things would be quieter in the Death Chamber as she concluded her monitor duty.

But as she walked back to her monitors, she heard bells jingling. She glanced to see the elf shoes were still on her feet. She smiled—such attired she could tolerate, at least to honor Spirit's bet. She turned the feed onto the Death City street surveillance monitors, to see just how far that pervy Death Scythe and Stein had departed from the Academy. She crossed her arms, her smile widening.

o-o-o

"Faster, Stein, faster!"

"This chair runs faster without two people on it, senpai!"

Those walking through Death City that Christmas morning were greeted to a surprising view: two men riding a stitched-up office chair down the streets, struggling to get out of town as quickly as possible.

"She's my ex-I have more reason to escape than you!"

"Do you know what she did to me to get me to stop vivisecting you?! I'm amazed those parts of my body can grow back, and I'm not about to run that experiment twice: the control was sufficient, thank you very much!"

They rounded a tight corner, the chair's wheels sparking against the asphalt roads.

"Where are we heading, Spirit?"

"I heard Mexico City is wonderful this time of year!"

"I thought that was where you assigned-"

"If she's here now, then she ain't there, right?"

Stein shrugged: he could not argue with that logic.

With that, the two men departed from Death City, as small children watched the scene, questioning why the value of the annual Christmas parade had become so remarkably cheap.

o-o-o

"What a rush!"

"Patty, you are indoors-please remove your helmet."

"But then I couldn't do this!" She reeled back her head, and started to bounce it off one of the walls.

"Stop that-you'll put gouges into the wall!"

"Patty," Liz began, placing her hands on Kid's shoulders, "why don't you start setting out the dishes?"

"But dinner isn't for another three hours!"

"Best then to start early, is it not?" Kid added.

"And Please set an additional plate," Liz added: "I am almost certain Maka and Soul will be bringing a guest with them."

Patty removed her helmet, so she could stick her tongue out at her family as she stamped her feet into the dining room.

Kid placed his hands behind his back, as he alternated between the balls and heels of his feet. Liz avoided eye contact, looking around the decorated hallway.

"I think we did good this year."

"Yes," Kid replied, "the new decorations suit our home." He peered into the living room. "Hmm-Father must have gone back to work." He narrowed his eyes. "And he left his mess, too," as he thumbed at the pile of empty eggnog cartons and puddle of its remains.

"We'll get clean it later," she said, walking into the room. "Come on-I want you to show me all the sights you saw at our old stomping grounds!"

"I...did not really have much time for sightseeing, Liz."

"Then just show me a few places," she said. She saw her neon pink laptop still sitting on the coffee table. She picked it up, and plopped down onto the couch. "I'll pull up the map, you point to the spots, 'kay?"

Kid smiled. "Okay." He sat to the right of her-until she patted next to her leg, and Kid accommodated by sliding closer, so he could look onto the screen with her. She put her arm around the back of the couch behind his neck, lifted the laptop screen, and with one hand typed in her password.

"Now, let's see what we can find in good ole Brook-"

Their eyes both widened.

"Patty! You've been writing smut on my laptop again?!"

"Good lord! I-I never did any such thing with Black Star! Or anyone! This is absolute fiction! Patty! How could you?!"

Their friend's giggling echoed throughout the mansion.

o-o-o

WRITER'S NOTES

Done!

Of course I end the fan fic with Kid finding smut about him—I can't let a story end on some authentic moment of sentiment between Liz and Kid when I can disrupt it with some low-class joke. And of course Black Star is going to be into that kind of writing—it's about him, so he's going to love it. Black Star ships himself with everyone: he's like Jeff Winger, he has chemistry with everyone.

Soul and Maka nuzzling each other's souls has been done in other fan fics—so I'm pretty sure I'm stealing that idea from Marsh of Sleep's story "Amplify."

This story is not good: it is more than 100 pages, it is limited to one season of the year, and it was written very quickly over the course of maybe two weeks.

But I enjoyed the experiment, and I thank you for sitting through even one sentence of this Frankenstein's monster. Have a decent winter this year— watch the holiday television special or film of your choice, and hang in there through the season.


End file.
